Shaddix had been laying low for much longer than he had anticipated within the confines of Iromar. He had hoped at times to seek out the woman who had tended to his wounds after his failed attempt at Asteraia. Another day, he told himself. Another day. The idea that 'another day' might be 'never again' had crossed his thoughts once in awhile, but it never lingered. Until that day came, he would be as useful here as he could, when his thoughts didn't get the best of him.

The russet streaked male was almost comfortable in Iromar. Almost. His fur did not always agree with the normal temperatures in the moors. Shaddix made due all the same. He hummed quietly to himself as he began to dose in the shadowed afternoon. A quiet afternoon, the brute seemed to not mind it much. That was until everything became eerily still. His flat, emerald eyes shot open suddenly. He raised his head and scented the wind that was undoubtedly coming.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. Great, just what he needed when he was starting to enjoy the afternoon. Shaddix heaved himself to all fours with a grunt and began the short walk to his den. Rocks were harder to come by here, especially the larger sort, but he had found one to dig his den underneath. Solid enough, and far enough away from the marshy areas that it wasn't likely to flood either.

He watched the skies for a moment. There it was. Tornado weather, he grumbled before he slipped into the safety of his den. Shaddix was barely inside when what he could only describe as a shriek of terror that didn't want to be. Whoever it was, they were tried to be helpful, but there was also fear there. He rolled his eyes as he wondered who might possibly be out in this nonsense. Until it clicked that the only young wolves he was aware of were Avery's. There might have been other litters last year or even this year, but there was no mistaking the Monarch's pregnancy.

Damn it... he muttered. Shaddix quickly whipped around and shot out of his den. A quick look around amidst the increased winds and flying debris, his emerald gave fell on Apollyon. Far enough away that he wouldn't have seen him earlier, yet close enough now that he could snatch him up rather quickly. Shaddix bolted. A yearling, it wouldn't be hard for the grown male to grab the boy and drag/carry him by the scruff to his den.

Come on, boy! he shouted over the wind as he aimed to grab Apollyon by the scruff and rush back towards his den. The boy would either have to deal with being carried or risk being dropped and run on his own. Either way, Shaddix would not stay out in these winds any longer, and his den was only a further twenty feet away.