Shaddix could not help but smirk at Apollyon's antics. The large brute was not intentionally disrespectful, just felt a bit more privileged than someone with no official rank within this pack probably should. Even then, being alive was far more important than any respect that could possibly be awarded to the younger male simply by the circumstances of his birth. Shaddix nodded to the question. "We're far enough down and everything around is solid. Nothing will rip this up. I'd be more worried about whoever makes there home in some of the tree roots out there in the marshes," he said.
He crossed his paws, his flat gaze drifted away from the dim light at the entrance of his den to Apollyon once more. A prince of Iromar indeed he thought with a internal chuckle. "They're everywhere, surprisingly. Even here..." he gave a small pause, "In Iromar." He wondered if the boy might get the hint. If he didn't, it didn't really matter. Shaddix did not hide who he was, he simply did not hunt those considered pack. Mostly out of respect for Avery, which in turn made Apollyon an off limits meal by default.
"Name's Shaddix," he replied. His ears pressed forward. The howling winds were louder now. The funnel was probably about to pass right over them at this rate. It was hard to miss the debris that started to pile up at the opening. "Well that's unfortunate..." he muttered before he looked back to Apollyon. "What's with being so keen on your fur? Not like it's gonna stay perfect living where it's heavily swamp." the white male asked. It was still idle chit-chat. Better that over trying to brave the storm.