Whitefish River What a Lovely Day to Kill the Queen.

He was trying to atleast show he had some kind of character, but that wasn't very easy with a introvert. 

"I like getting food," he said simply. So would that make him a Hunter? If the yearling could connect the dots, that would be nice. But his pride didn't allow him to be seen as an idiot if he was wrong at it. So his lips stayed shut on it. "Fighting is easy." Well, to some, it was. To others, well, they lost. Considering he was a wolf meant to grow rather massive, it was clear his biggest weakness would be against the speedier and more nimble of foes. He had seen firstpaw how they were the worst to fight against, landing light but efficient bites against you until you were exhausted. But had he gotten his bite on them a single time, the fight would be nearly over in that one blow. 

Did she just...
try an tell him what to do?

Foolish pride, bane to many oppertunities. 

"Excuse me? I mean...I know you just saw me dolphin my ass in this water. It takes energy for that kinda thing, and last thing I am to anybody is a puppet." 

She came and ruined his whole zen, and the simple-minded yearling stubbornly sat his wet tail on the muddy bank and refused to do her bidding. He'd somehow miraculously find a pack who took his word instead of trying to make him jump through hoops. 
Or back into a pond, rather.