Swiftcurrent Creek is that what you're brewin'

At the teasing words of the other, Magpie shifted her position to sit — her posture wasn't quite as submissive, but it was definitely somewhere between sheepish and deflated. Although such ribbing might affect other youths negatively, the little black wolf shrugged it off with a roll of her dappled shoulders; it was a side effect when one was so determined not to speak to strangers. They generally started to think you were retarded — but better that than to reveal something that could be used more ferociously against her. It was far better to be underestimated by potential enemies.

It always came down to name, too, and other than telling Fox upon her acceptance into the creek, Magpie did her best to keep from speaking it. It had less to do with the fact that she didn't want anyone to know it, and far more to do with the fact that she didn't want anyone to know it. Although it was an exceptionally pointed hint from the other, the juvenile simply stared back with her green eyes unblinking.