The former hunter was now not even that. He had nothing. He was nothing. After all this time, even his memories of them were fading; their faces and voices were all but gone. He would never see them again.
He had intended to come back here, ready to grovel and beg, to try and win over the good graces of whoever was in charge, even though he felt he’d left on good terms. But even they were gone, too.
A part of him wasn’t particularly surprised. The way Avella had been going about things had been all wrong. You’re one to talk, he thought. It wasn’t as if his situation was much better - even though he’d tried all his life to be good, it hadn't mattered.
”I am still here, though. They are not,” He spoke aloud, dismissing his thoughts as he wandered through the place, and explored the dens the pack had once called home. Alarick almost enjoyed it, taking pleasure in their apparent misfortune in a dark way. From the scents, it didn’t seem like anyone had been here for a while.
He wondered how long it’d taken, what series of events had been their undoing. He supposed he’d never know.