Sandpiper

You approach a 3-wolf group, a large male flanked by two blue-toned females of which he grooms flirtatiously. The silky piebald amongst his fancy companions stands out in the pack of shaggy-furred wolves, a pedigree of perfection involved in his being, no doubt. He looks at you curiously as he stops mid-lick on the darker she-wolf, who huffs and jerks back from his now-distracted affections.

"What did I do, Ibis?" He growls, narrowing his eyes that quickly dart back and forth from you and the aforementioned Ibis. Annoyed, the piebald sighs and addresses you with distrust. "Why are you here?"

You mention you're just sheltering for the duration of snowstorm and introduce yourself. He huffs, seemingly brushing you off. "Sandpiper."

Sandpiper, a muscular specimen of a sought-after wolf, was one of the few wolves in the pack who was hired from the trading center. Despite his expectations and coming from a large pack, Sandpiper eventually found solace in the closeness of the Flock and fathering his first litters. He's inclined to the other pedigree wolves, but he doesn't mind the wildness of the veteran hunters or the mix of Setentia Pack blood in the adolescent's quarters.