It had been a vary long healing process and the older male seemed to loose track of time in the process. After his fight and seeing the Abraxas move away from the lands, Vern had stuck around. Once more he was back to square one which frustrated and angered the old man to no end. There was also the fact that Zephyr had fled leaving his comrade to take the fall without any aid. Luckily the rest of the young boys hadn't jumped in, but in a way Vern wish the would have. If they would have killed him he wouldn't still be here living alone, feeling bitter, and becoming nasty. These changes only added to the bitterness that was still in him from the last pack takeover the day he had lost everything to keep him going.
Though he was a coward and would never be able to attempt suicide. To add to the bitterness dwelling within him he no longer had much of a life and there was no way now that he could ever have children or get the joys of settling with a family, at least those were his opinions. He had lost his chance and there was no other chances in his life. All he wanted to do was be killed to be by her side once more, to be able to finally tell her how he feels. The fact he wanted to die made him more reckless since the fight. Even though he was reclusive, if anyone dared to approach him he would be daring and confrontational secretly hoping someone would just up and kill him.
Grunting in stiffness the male got up from his meal, licking the blood from his grizzled chin. He was looking his age and feeling it for sure. The brown in his coat was now grizzled with white, his form skinny and his fur messy. He wasn't extremely thin like some would get, but with his age it was harder to keep the weight on himself. His left eye was now gone and more scars now riddled his muzzle. He was an old man and without the help of a healer his body was really feeling older then he was. He moved on a more staggered manner, his once swift fluid moments now getting sloppy with arthritis.
Moving away from his small kill he made his way back to his den, the same den that he had been in when the pack was thriving. No one was left and he didn't leave to seek others out. Instead he chose to suffer in his reclusive nature and become similar to a grumpy old badger. He was tired from his hunt, tired from the lack of real sleep, so he crawled into his den and curled up wanting to try and sleep a bit to recharge himself. What else was there to do anyway?
![[Image: YhOwDpX.png]](http://i.imgur.com/YhOwDpX.png)
