Lauren would remember the name, even if she ended up not doing anything with it. The curiosity was there - she had indeed recognized the last name. Wasn't Mingan part of some tribe lands up in Canada? First Nation something, she wasn't sure which. Not that she was usually the type to automatically bond with other Native Americans just because of their heritage - she was proud of hers, even if the Navajo nation wouldn't accept her - but it wasn't a reason to make friends automatically, either. Still, it was something in common, and that was always interesting.
So she committed the name to memory just in case she wanted to do something with it later. That was about the point where the younger wolves started to get a little restless, and it seemed their game time was up. She understood; a pack this size probably held down a sizeable bit of territory (into which she'd wandered without so much as a by-your-leave) and needed to make sure no one was going to make a move on their land. Which she wasn't sure was something that could really be done these days, with property ownership and legality and the like, but instinct was a powerful driving force. So when the older wolf did his best to wave, she returned the gesture. With a flick of her tail, she was bounding off the way she'd come. Time to hit up the university for shifter tag.