Blizzard Strayer

Pup name: Puddle

This young wolf earned his adult name at an early age when he saved his pack-sister, Snoot, from a rival grizzly.

--------
"Hey, Blizzard Strayer, did you hear? Wandering Moon is retiring as a hunter."

Blizzard Strayer glanced up as the voice of Running Night; a popular wolf, and the packs you gest, premier scout, sounded just behind him.

Standing just a few tail-lengths away, Running Night was watching him was a measure of curiosity.

Blizzard Strayer shrugged. "Yeah, I'd heard something like that, I guess. Why?"

At this, Running Night snorted. "What do you mean, why? You're Falling Snow's son. It only makes sense you'd become a hunter, too! And that you'd be one of the first to be considered for the role..."
There was a little bit of vitreoul in those last words; as if Running Night resented his prestigious parentage I'm the pack.

As if you have anything to be jealous over; everyone loves you, and you have one of the most respected roles in the pack. At least as far as my dad is concerned.

Sighing, Blizzard Strayer rolled over, extending a paw upward as if to scratch at the low-hanging moon. He would be lying if he said he wasn't at all interested in the role. In fact, other than the simple matter that he was the lead hunters son, the only real reason Running Night was probably asking him was because, as a younger pup, he'd been obsessed with the concept of being a hunter one day.

Admitting that to Running Night, however, was giving the information-hungry wolf an edge for gossip, and Blizzard Strayer was not about to surrender that so easily.

"Maybe. I'd been thinking about becoming a pup-sitter though, you know? A lot less intense."

Blizzard Strayer's tome was edged with sarcasm, but he really couldn't help it; the reply was fairly outlandish even for him, and if Running Night took the bait, he was more of a fool than Blizzard Strayer originally thought. But, as Blizzard Strayer had hoped, Running Night just eyed him warily before shrugging.

"Well, suite yourself; just thought you'd like to know, heh."



Another issue Blizzard Strayer had considered was that Wandering Moon played one of the most critical roles in the hunting party; that being the role of Finisher. It was Wandering Moon who grabbed the prey and delt the final blow. It was Wandering Moon's talent that finalized whether or not the pack had a fresh kill for the week. And, as Blizzard Strayer teetered on the edge of the cliffs surrounding his home next to Wandering Moon, his mother, Freljord, and the rest of the hunters, he was beginning to doubt his ability to fulfill that roll.

"The winds are not blowing in my favor today." His mother grumbled, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "I am picking up something larger quite a ways from here, down by the lake."

Greying Clouds, one of the chasers, shrugged. "Whatever you feel is best, Snow; I'm just itching to follow something."

The rest of the wolves nodded. Fall of Snow turned to Wandering Moon and Blizzard Strayer.

"Moon, it smells like they're in the gulch next to the lake; hang out in your usual spot, and I'll let you know once I've pinpointed the target. Blizzard Strayer, go with him. The rest of you, stand by until you hear my signal. Are we clear?"

A chorus of excited tips, barks, and short howls filled the air. Blizzard Strayer was tempted to join in, but...the anxiety in his belly was getting the best of him.

As his packages streamed by, full of purpose and confidence, he noted Wandering Moon was glancing at him.

"Nervous?"

Blizzard Strayer glanced away.

"Was it that obvious?"

Wandering Moon gave a bark of amusement. "I think the prey can smell it from here. Listen,"

Wandering Moon cocked his head, gesturing towards the lake. "I have full confidence you can fulfill my role. So does your mother; even if she doesn't acknowledge it, but you know how she is normally. And out here, she's a totally different wolf. But don't worry about it too much. You're going to fail at some point, that much is guaranteed. I have, and so has your mother. All of us have. Follow me; I'll show you how it's done a few times...and then we'll see if you have the confidence to try it yourself."



The first several hunts on his own as Finisher were rough, although it wasn't entirely his fault. The first two hunts, Fall of Snow lost the scent. Even with the assistance of the other hunters, they were unable to pick it back up; which meant Blizzard Strayer never really got experience in the whole finisher role. By the third hunt, they were finally able to catch on. A porcupine, of course. Fall of Snow had to show him the best way to actually kill it without getting a mawful of quills. It was a refined art that he hadn't quite mastered yet, as he had to pay Potato a visit after, but, hey, it was a successful hunt under the belt.

The fourth hunt wasn't so great. It failed; and it was entirely Blizzard Strayer's fault. Greying Clouds and Chasing Snow comforted him, but he still felt guilty over it.

By the 8th hunt, he felt confident enough to say he had a general grasp on the role; he had yet to take down anything massive, but as they gathered, Fall of Snow glanced at him inquisitively.

"How do you feel in the role, Blizzard Strayer?"

Blizzard Strayer shifted on his haunches. "Ok, I suppose. I think I'll feel more comfortable as I gain more experience with different kinds of prey."

At this, Fall of Snow grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that. Our scouts reported several herds moving through the area, so I thought it would be w good day to try and take down a few big carcasses, what with winter drawing near."

A groan from Blizzard Strayer, but he nodded.

"I'm down to try it; don't say I didn't warn you, though, I'm not sure how well I'll do."

The lead chaser, Greying Clouds, laughed raciusly. "Good lad! You'll be a star killer in no time."

Fall of Snow rolled her eyes, but she did smile. "Grey, you're scarcely a year Blizzard Strayer's senior; you sound like an old man."

Grey Clouds grinned, his expression cheeky. "Hey, I'm his senior as a hunter. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Fall of Snow sighed tolerantly. "I suppose. All you have going for you is technicalities, Grey. Really now."

Blizzard Strayer, suddenly intrigued, glanced between the two of them.

"May I ask a question?"

"Shoot, and fast, before I go looking for a trail." Fall of Snow huffed.

"I noticed you guys don't use full names...Like, any of you. Which is a practice I thought reserved for mates or otherwise pair bonded wolves. Why is that?"

A few feet away, Chasing Snow blinked. "Isn't it obvious? Besides the fact that we're all- let's be plain- extremely close, and have to be in order to work effectively as hunters, is it not far easier to say a short form version of our names versus the mouthful that is, say, yours?"

Blizzard Strayer blinked. "Well, yes, I suppose. Home come you don't use a short version of mine?"

"They're just not used to you yet." Fall of Snow interjected. "And, quite frankly, I'm not even sure what we'd shorten your name to. Blizzard? Blizz? Strayer seems, ah..."

"Weird." Greying Clouds pointed out. Fall of Snow glanced at him sharply, but nodded before turning back to Blizzard Strayer. "Well? Any ideas?"

Blizzard Strayer shrugged. "Er, you have a good point. I don't really, but Blizz is fine."

"Well, it's a bit...novel." Fall of Snow mused. "But I guess that makes it official. Blizz? Welcome to Rushing Snow, the premier- and only- hunters of Hollow Song!"