His father may march into battle and yet, Elohim departs nonetheless. After all, his being in Glorall does nothing to ensure a victory or otherwise; if his father fails then his absence will provide an easy exit from the territory without the bother of others. In this way, he has thought his actions through more than one might expect, his mind deceptively cunning despite his unusual behavior otherwise. He sees the potential for an undesirable change and so, he does his best to avoid it. Besides, the curiosity towards the male - Halcyon - and Iromar were too great to simply ignore because of some petty play at power. There are other things to be concerned about or at least, that is how he has come to see it. He ought to take the opportunity to learn before it is taken away from him by coincidence or force, no?

He departs with ease from the borders, his long legs taking him fast across the territories that separate swamp from shore. He operates purely with a singular objective, unwavering despite the plethora of distractions that seek to drive him elsewhere. It is when his finds find the change in earth texture that his attention wavers; suddenly, the loam beneath him is softer, wetter, and it changes its scent ever so slightly as he approaches from Iromar's east. He follows the river vaguely, winding towards the borders as he stops every few moments. He noses the reeds, places his feet in the thick waters... there is little he does not explore, intent to learn all that he can while he can.

Eventually, he comes to a standstill at the boundary. He sniffs cautiously at the air, taking note of the scents that construct the borderline; female and male, decisively marking their leader as a taken woman. Her smell is different to what he is used to and it makes him whine in curiosity, though he is quick to compose himself lest he be found in such a state. There is the expectation, after all, that he must at least attempt to uphold: he is an emissary of Glorall, he supposes, sent to do diplomacy in some way or another.

Above him, the sky is clear and a crisp blue, the sun high as it breaks through what little cloud there is to illuminate the dark of his fur against the green of Iromar's moors. He stands as patiently as possible before he finally releases a short, course cry out to both the male he has come for and whomever else might grow curious enough to show themselves. He wishes to investigate anything and everything and it extends to the wolves that make such a place home. He knows little of the packs outside of his own and so, he desires to compare and learn.