His tongue was out of his mouth, almost as if it was trying to escape him as he panted heavily. He could not seem to gather enough air with each breath. Each one was labored as he barreled into what is considered Iromar. His mouth burned, and he had tried to purge himself of this feeling and yet his stomach only burned with him. His eyes were open wide with a touch of insanity glistening in them. He had taken a good bite out of that boy. He had done his damage and so had he. Andras knew not what happened to him, as his mind was already warped and dissolved from the disease that slowly ravaged his whole body.

In his haze of a haphazard run, his blackened form smashed into a tree. He stumbled backwards with a growl, his eyes almost crossed as he is almost unaware what happened. He shook his head, attempting to gather what bit of vision and sanity he could muster, before he took a crackling breath and moved on. His run was slowed as his legs began to shake. He was losing control over these stubborn limbs of his, but he did not give up. He had to get to where Lillith was, to be with her once more.

He trudged through mud as he wandered closer to his destination. At times, he would pause, his eyes that would remain open until almost glazed over looking back and forth, trying to understand where he was. His mouth was open as he groaned, drool dangling from his jaws like poison strings. The mud and gunk clung to his fur and legs, like a demon attempting to bring him back into the depths of hell. He seemed to roar as he stumbled forward again. He used his last bit of strength to rush like a boar, tripping along the way like a pup just learning to walk.

He somehow managed to make it to the throne next to his den. It came into view, although he did not seem to see it but instead blindly headed for it. It was his nose that drew him in and directed him to where the bones of kills past were still piled together. Aithne had not gotten rid of his throne, of the rotting meat and reminder of death. He ends up falling to the ground, belly to the earth as he gasped for breath. His paws still attempted to inch forward, taking another moment to gather strength as he could hear the laugh of Lillith in the distance- or is that simply an insect? He could not tell.

"Lillith....Lillith!" he said through heavy breaths, his legs struggling to lift and carry his weight. He manages to do so, his form wobbling with each slow step. It was almost as if gravity had turned up on him, decided to pull even more and more with each step, like a lover that did not wish for him to leave. The poison was taking him. It was taking him and he did not know it, did not realize it. His mind was so confused, and the world around him was so distorted, that he did not even know what was happening to his own body. He ends up biting his own tongue as he skids onto the ground once more, a gurgling cry filling the air as he lands into mud. He is so close to his den, so close to Lillith and yet so far. Bones littered the ground around him. There were leftovers of furs still littering the ground of the throne that was once his. His form struggles. It fights like a fish flopping the mud. His legs seem to be running in place as he lay on his side, twitching and attempting to move. Blood from his bit tongue seeps into the mud that his face half lay in, his eyes staring not at anything, but instead following things that seem to be in his head. His own ears move wildly, like he heard voices all around him.

He was still alive, but how much so? He could not lift himself any further. He could not get himself into his own den to be with his Lillith. Right now, he was just a bag of flesh fighting for every second of life in the mud that was ready to consume, to absorb him back into the earth of which he came. It was only a matter of time.