Moonspear i see the torch we all must hold

Bronco weighed the thought of being blamed for the bad weather, and came to the conclusion that he'd simply have to let it roll of his shoulders if it ever happened, like water off a duck's back. "A guy could get used to bein' called something like 'Stormbringer'" He joked lightly. In all seriousness, though, he did appreciate the fact that he'd not found himself amongst a pack of superstitious wolves- otherwise he might have had a much more miserable initiation into the pack's ranks. The rain itself was bad enough. 

He hoped that there might be something particular that Kukutux would want, or something that she was in short supply of- but her mate turned up only a few suggestions, ones he'd figured out already. "Y'know, I seen a fox once, not like a red fox, but like a red-and-black fox," He said. "I think Ma called it a cross-fox. I guess you could say its pelt was used for decoration," He remarked thoughtfully- though in truth, the fox had been caught trespassing and had been torn to shreds, and the borders had been littered with its remains as a means of warning others away. That was his mother's idea of decorating; he appreciated Kukutux's finesse much more. "I'll keep an eye out for something...I s'pose it'll just sorta jump out an' bite me when I see the right thing," He said with a shrug.