Ira had been stalking patrolling along the borders, performing warden-like duties, figuring that maybe he should approach Jinx on picking it up as one of his apprenticeships since he was a recruiter and they sort of went hand in hand in a way, but had been a little too consumed with his blooming romance thing with Bones to focus on apprenticeships. Of course her stretch of absence left Ira with a lot of free time on his paws. He supposed he could have made it a point to get to better know the other members of Silvertip - and he would, he told himself, eventually. For now he was contented with eavesdropping and spying on them like the devil Princeling he was. He had entertained the idea, suggested by Jinx, of making him into an assassin and he worked on honing his patience and stealth, his ability to move quickly and near silently along the ridged and rocky slope of their towering cathedral of a home as it stretched towards the heavens.
Leg had just lifted to enforce the border with his own scent when Lecter let out a call, amplified, Ira assumed, by the cavern; it was a call for Ira himself. Leg lowered and sigh left the Princeling’s lips as he wondered why on the earth the Shaman was calling for him, and contemplated for a few moments on ignoring it and claiming that he had been out recruiting. What if it’s important? What if something happened to Jinx? Though Ira knew that Lecter did not care for him at all (it was quite mutual), the Shaman (loathe as Ira was to admit it) did seem to genuinely care about Jinx.
Not really wanting to hear a potential lecture about ignoring the summons of a wolf of higher rank than him Ira begrudgingly made his way to the caverns, following Lecter’s scent easily when he came across their mouth. his stepfather the Shaman when his crystalline eyes fell upon the other’s form.