He had watched his brother take the reins, and everything that was Dahlia in tatters. Certainly, Conor did not make it worse, but Emwe's own mind could not put together this jigsaw. He had taken to follow his niece as much as she followed him when she was a child, neither knowing quite what to do. It was not that he had no faith in his brother, but more that all he had believed in had gone with the presence of his father. He thought "his" father, for Conor seemed to have orphaned himself from him. Perhaps they both should, but it was hard. Everything was difficult. Emwe knew now, even if he was not able to comprehend that knowledge fully, what his father had been. At least he knew that things were not the way he had thought they were in this world. So many days he stood alongside his brother, who carried the full burden of the pack on his lonely shoulders. Emwe found no way to help him, or reach out from his confused self to lend his brother a hand. Perhaps it could have been beautiful, a pack run by the two Soul brothers, had it not been for his own jumbled mind.
He'd grown quieter, but he'd not lost himself completely. Conor had noticed too, probably, and perhaps that was why they had not argued when Emwe told him of his intentions. This place was not the same, and no other pack would do; that much he was certain of. So he would take his four legs and let them take him away from here. Vesle had proclaimed that she would follow, and he was glad. Since her birth, almost, she'd been shadowing him, and now she seemed almost as much a part of him as was Conor or Alexey or any of all the other family members that surrounded him. He had no father anymore, and he had not had a mother since he was a child. Soon, he would have no one but Vesle, and she no one but him. Feeling quite bold, the cream-and-brown timber male stepped outside Dahlian borders, and the little gray shadow said nothing to him as they moved further together, and the scents of everything they knew slowly dissipated behind them.