Avery is an...interesting situation. She is of bad blood, blood that he despises, blood of traitors and yet that is exactly why he must take the girl in. He must ensure she remains loyal, ensure that she understands the error of her parent's ways, and to use such anger against those who deserve it most. He notices her glances, and he knows that deep down she is a lost and troubled girl. As much as Andras believes in independent young, he also knows that there is a certain...structure that must be maintained, any sort of decent structure was crumbled for the girl. She had grown significantly in age, but what of her mind? What other than her body? She was left alone with only her own thoughts to fester in how her mother abandoned her for Angels.
She needed guidance, and a place in this world where she can succeed. He is not a man to give away strength for free, but he will be damn sure to give this girl a chance. He always saw a sort of...strength in the girl, and perhaps he wished to draw that strength out. The woods was where their destination was, a place where Elk roam. The little meeting in the crags would never go forgotten. He had wished to rip of that traitors throat, and there was the devil inside of him that screamed and burst with rage the moment he stepped away. Yet the time was not right, not to be, as he wished for a few more mind games before he spread her piece by piece across Moladion.
She then asks of his plan, a single red hued ear flicking back in her direction. He remains tall and strong, like an iron pillar plated with obsidian and scarlet. He does not give pause with her words, but continues on the path, his nares flaring as he inhales and analyzes the delicate scents that travel in the air.
"Whatever comes first," he states sternly. It is known that one should take the first opportunity that presents itself- hesitation or eyes focused too hard on one things could lead to missed opportunities. "They will get over it," he states with a smirk. Missing him? He hardly would believe such a thing. Perhaps Lillith, but the rest? Astaroth would love for him to disappear into thin air so he could ravage the throne.
His attention tunes in sharply, eyes focusing on movement far in the distance in the golden orange sunset light that blares between the trees. A shadow not too far- an creature of hooves. Her words disturb his concentration, and he finds a snarl dripping out of his throat.
"Shut up," he says harshly, his form becoming still as stone as he watches the shadow in the distance. "You see that? There is your skull. You just have to rip it off its kicking, screaming body," he boomed with a cracked grin. It was a smaller elk, a younger one, but he was never specific on size or age. He turned his head slowly and only slightly towards her.
"Keep up" he says, his paws of black melding into the medley of shadows. Golden sun would pour onto her black and red frame, his scarlet hairs illuminating in a dark magnificence. He ran with great skill, able to account for roots and foliage as he dashed surprisingly quietly for their prey.
Honestly, the forests were always a crap shoot with prey. Since it was younger, it was indeed strong and physically capable, and yet there were flaws. It has less experience in this kind of land, less control over their not fully developed legs. Andras was a male on this earth many winters, and has hunted in one of the most difficult terrains for much of his life. He does not give way with barks and snarls, and by the time the prey notices, he is already on their tail.
The elk panics, turning to run. Just as Andras accounted for, with the very first turn it had failed to notice a tall, hardened root. It trips, almost falling completely. It gives him enough time to snap his jaws onto its back hind leg, holding the elk in place as he pulls back with his great strength. Now- it was her turn to bite, to tear into flesh....if she damn well kept up.