It was the onset of winter. The onset of the time where things...happened. His Lillith grew increasingly hungry, in more ways than one. It is his responsibility to bring her all the meat and dead carcasses she desires. He is driven to do this, and it is a rather compulsive habit at this point. She desired to feast in the winter, and her desires are his. That is the power of the bond, the source like an eternal burning sun. He was powered by her, given strength by her very essence. That is what drives the burly male of black and red to the crags, raging across the waters of Iromar and stepping his massive paws onto the increasing rocks of the crags.
Sure, Lillith may be the source of his reason, the cause, but there is more reason to it all than that. Life was not so simple, and he knew something was...different about Chael. Different since his return from the crags. The scent of many touched his pelt, and Andras knew not what happened to his pack member, and maybe a good hunt in the crags would reveal even more than a meal for his soul. He was like a darkened plague slamming its weight around as he barreled forward, his intense eyes always searching for the slightest movement, his nose always tasting the wind for the scent of prey or death. Truly, death was the most appealing of the smells, causing a sensation of unmatched pleasure in his twisted mind.
The cold white stuff that falls from the sky had made an appearance last night. The world was being littered in the stuff, almost blinding him on this overcast and chilled day. He stuck out in this winter world, his form so very dark against the colors of white. Even his own bloodied hackles were touched with the gentle grace of unique snowflakes that will never be appreciated by the brutish likes of Andras.
He would say he despised the stuff, but truly he did not. He had a wide chest and strong legs. He could push his way through the deepest snow with little effort, yet some creatures were slowed to a halt in the snow. Hunting certain prey became easier, the snow acting as a barrier. For now though, the snow has only fallen an inch or two, but his wide paws still crunch the stuff into oblivion.
A thirst had taken a hold of his throat from his journey, and he was not one to ignore the call of his body. He was largely an instinctual creature, one who hones in on his primal emotions and refines them beyond what any wildling could. His muscular frame flexes and relaxes naturally, ripples seen with each expert motion as he comes upon a small pond fed by a waterfall not so far off. He pauses next to the edge where water and earth meet, his cracked muzzle dipping down to greedily take in the liquid he required. His was always at attention, and held a natural aura of dominance that was undeniable. His sunset eyes burned into the winter landscape, gazing ahead as he drank, knowing full well this land is teeming with wolves who likely dare not come to his pack, and likely dare not approach a ripped an scarred beast as him. Perhaps, someone of worth will have the guts to speak to the Demon Lord, or perhaps today will simply be a death blow to some poor, unsuspecting creature to be Lillith's meal.