The thrill of the hunt. It was something she hadn't felt in so long. It is in her blood, in the blood of all wolves, to chase prey and kill. It was their way of life, and Andromeda was feeling the cold wind streak through her fur as she dashed upon liquid black stilts to her prey.

Her jaws had locked on, a growl surfacing in the cold air around her. The proghorn had struggled, kicking behind in an attempt to knock Andromeda off her feet, but Andromeda was a strong. She was capable of holding the proghorn down by snapping her jaws tight. She was not going to let go. Azrael would be coming and she was not going to disappoint him, or herself. She still had to prove that she was a worthy imprint. Andromeda was no assassin, but she was not weak. Her muscles were still strong under her charcoal pelt. Just because she now held the life of a mother, doesn't mean she couldn't hunt to kill. Tonight, Azrael will know the true strength of her bloodline. She was under the stars of winter this night, the stars of her people, and she could feel the power the night gave her.

Andromeda snarled as the proghorn struggled, her front side pulling back with her jaws locked on. She could taste a hint of blood on her tongue, and her yellow eye dilated with the rush of a fresh kill about to happen. The stars shimmered down upon her tonight, as her Azrael shot out of the winter's snow. He had been quick and close, and her eyes did linger upon him. It was now that she saw, under moonlight's embrace, the true strength and beauty of the male that had fathered her children. She watched as his own fangs glimmered as deadly dagger, rushing forward to grasp onto the shoulder. Andromeda responded with a violent growl as the creature fell, the white fluff of winter spraying into the air and falling so delicately upon them all.

Andromeda continued to tug at the hind leg of the proghorn, her strong limbs pulling back with resistance, to strengthen her tug and the ripping of flesh. The blood had begun to flow so heavily, like a heavenly gift from the stars onto her and her imprint. The proghorn kicks and flails, wailing, a scream of death and an ending of life. The pair of sun and shadow moved with such grace together, they were as one, for they were souls separated into two different bodies. Andromeda knew this for so long now, and she knew he was hers from the very first moment.

Azrael moves in for the kill, parting his jaws and diving in for the neck. Andromeda kept her own blackened jaws firmly grasped upon the back leg of the proghorn, crunching down with ever ounce of strength so he did not struggle or disrupt the killing her Azrael was giving as a gift tonight.

She could feel the life draining from the proghorn, the lack of tension on the muscles becoming apparent as Azrael killed. Andromeda let go of the leg, lifting her head in sync with that of Azrael, her own laser yellow eyes cutting through the darkness to combine with the blue of Azrael's. Andromeda looked strong, confident, and beautiful as she stood tall, the red of blood streaking on her muzzle and cheek. The blood of this night was also staining the white of her Azrael, in a very similar fashion, for they were one in the same. This male assassin of her very own, yes, her own, stepped through the snow towards her, and Andromeda held her composure as he reached out to caress her cheek with his tongue. She turned her head a bit, leaning into his gentle, blood touched kiss. Her ears did manage to fall back slightly, her tail giving way into a gentle wag. She raised her intense yellow eyes up to Azrael, feeling as though he was about to speak, and her ears were met with the song of his voice. When he says her name like such, the black female closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of warmth and the tingle of pleasure flash through her body. Quickly she opened her eyes once more, and it was almost like when they first met. Their souls, so warm, like a fire burning under their snow covered paws. Her eyes rose to him, intense and clear, and her voice whispered gently into the night.

"Yes, my Azrael," she whispered, leaning her black muzzle in to embrace his own. It wasn't to last though, as Andromeda allowed a smirk to touch her black lips. That smirk that Azrael should know quite well by know. This was not over. She had danced with him, yes, the dance of death upon snow and moonlight. But that was the way of Angels. Andromeda's ways were not to be forgotten, and she would ensure the proper rituals were done. Pulling back her muzzle with that twisted smirk, Andromeda continued with a voice a bit more normal this time.

"For now, we will be mates, my Azrael, as I have danced with you in the tradition of Angels. But next winter, you will have to approach me with The Offering," she said teasingly, blinking as she gazed up at his handsome features with her own gorgeous star-marked face. She imagined he would not be too...pleased to do something so apparently strange from her homeland. He would get over it though, as he always did. She figured he would protest and gripe the whole way through, but he would do it. It was how Azrael showed he cared. She knew it all along, no matter how he tried to hide it. She could read him with ease, like a collegiate reading a children's book. She just didn't rub it in his face...yet.