it's going down, i'm yelling timber

The explanation took her aback, somewhat: wolves didn't have names at birth? It seemed a strange concept, so foreign and nonsensical. How did one refer to a cub without a name? Even as she mulled this over, and privately thought to herself that even assigning numbers would be as good as naming them, she purred a soft, "I see." Though she harboured a secret desire to have been born with a northern name like her sister and her brother Arktos, Jinx nevertheless held her name dear. It had been the first and only gift from her father, if one did not count her uncanny likeness to him in her pursuit of voodoo supremacy.

"I admit, it makes sense," she offered, even though part of her still failed to understand the usefulness of the custom. "The strongest are the most worthy, yes?" This said something about Pump that Jinx could not actually confirm, because she had no idea whether Pump really deserved her name or not... For her standards might differ from those of whoever had named the tousled wolf. Despite this lack of knowledge, she nodded her head once as if in affirmation of her own observation, unwittingly paying a compliment to the new Horizon Ridge wolf.

She shook herself off once more and then stretched, wrapping up their meeting with a, "it's been nice getting to know you, Pump. I think you will do nicely here." She paused, shot her unusual pack mate a lopsided and sincere grin that was somehow still kind of creepy looking, and said, "I must be going, but see you around," before turning to lope away across the strand.