Ragnar watched the stranger with observing, predatory eyes, his smirk tugging mischievously at the corners of his lips. Thistle was radiating tension and discontent aimed towards the woman, this Ragnar felt cracking through the air, nearly tangible. Scarred half of his face was thrown into the moonlight as he tilted his head the other direction, as if it would give him a better angle of looking at her. It did not change much but his own direction of perception. His question was answered simply with nothing else given. Nightshade. He glimpsed at what he could see of his Queen Wife out the corner of his eye before his gaze refocused upon the loner. She hadn't trespassed so he Ragnar had no reason to react with any sort of hostility towards her. Still, he missed having a slave since Nerian had been freed when she'd agreed to be his second wife. Ragnar could not determine what it was that he missed and realized that no one would be able to replace Nerian's disposition on her title, though Ragnar had never really treated her like a slave to begin with.
It was not with hostility that he eyed the woman with piped interest, noting that she looked strong and that he wanted another. Calculation was written across the Viking's expression as he studied her with a nearly inaudible hum of hmmm in his throat. He did not intend to ask her why she was so close to their borders, figuring that her answer would be the same as all the others: I need to join a pack. Instead, he liked the idea of stealing her even if it was from loneliness and even if she had not intended to join a pack at all. He missed raiding and this was as close as he could come under present circumstances.