Shaddix was not meant to be a moorland wolf. His thick coat was enough to indicate that. However, he would make due. He had done enough stalking and lurking about in the tundra that he knew there was no good to come of that. With the changed paws of Iromar, for Avery's predecessor had been some semblance of ally to the nameless creature that held what was rightfully his. Best to make friends and maintain proper terms with others before he went again towards the plains. All in due time.
For the time being, he needed to adjust. His ears flicked as his tall form moved through the swamp. Someone was already following him. It didn't really matter who, for he was welcome here. It certainly wasn't one of the swamp creatures that called it home. The russet and white male paused when Avery barked. Ah, this was her then. The new monarch of Iromar.
He paused as she closed the gap between them. His flat emerald eyes noted everything he could about her outward appearance. Older, certainly, but not unfit. The thought amused him ever so slightly. Shaddix was broken from his own mind when she spoke.