Stavanger Bay Gone with the wind

The time had finally arrived for him to leave the mountain and make his way to the shore, the need to seek out that which he'd felt he'd lost burning a hole right through his chest. Worry gnawed at his nerves and state of mind, whispers of various 'what if's' flowing freely through his mind. He could not prevent the thoughts, nor could he force them away. They were ever present, filling him with more and more fear with each step he took. When the scent of the ocean touched his nose, he froze, unable to take a single step further. His body would not move no matter how much he willed it to do so, gluing him down between the mountain and the sea. In an attempt to escape reality, he contemplated turning around and returning to Silvertip, pretending he'd never set foot in the direction of his old friend's homeland, but even that was an impossible feat. His body would move in neither direction, it had seemed, forcing him to do nothing but look out towards the salty waves.

There he remained for an unknown amount of time, his conscious self having zoned out too often for him to keep track of the seconds that crawled by. Eventually, however, he was shaken back to his senses as a chilly breeze raced down his spine. Alastor gave a good, hard shake of his head before forcing his legs to move forward, once more working to close the distance between himself and the bay. It was a difficult task, far more so than he ever would have imagined, but it was one he had eventually been successful in completing. Before he knew it, his paws had touched the space where a border was once present, the distantly familiar scent stale. He was certain, then, that a pack no longer inhabited the lands. No longer did he know of where his friend was, or how he could find him again. There was no longer a reason behind his want to stay so close to the sea.

Alastor crossed the threshold into the territory, his movements slower than usual as he wandered deeper into what once was a pack's home. He carried on through the forest, stopping only when he could feel sand seeping in between his toes. His gaze trailed out over the sea, though his mind was miles away. It became apparent that he had arrived too late, and there was nothing he could do to change that. The pack was gone, as was his friend, leaving him uncertain of what path he might take next. To stay at the mountain or carry on with his life elsewhere—it was a decision he could not make, not at the moment.