They were close.
He didn't know how he knew, but he didn't question it, either. Karkaroff had always had the instincts of prey, not predator, and he obeyed them even while resenting his own weakness.
As a Death Eater, he had not been this way. Not with a mask to hide behind and comrades to prowl alongside. He had sometimes done things that wrenched his gut afterwards, that gave him recurring nightmares – but in the moment, with the others, it hadn't mattered. The intoxicating thrill of power...of being hunter, instead of hunted...
Mere delusion.
Karkaroff would always be prey.