Stavanger Bay Swearing Fealty

Ragnar hadn't forgotten about the man that Thistle had found washed up upon their shore, nor his promise of what would happen if too much time went by and the man did not call for him to discuss whether he was well enough to be a useful edition to Stavanger Bay or if he would need to be chased off. Stavanger Bay wasn't a charity and Ragnar was not willing to waste the resources they were gathering, stockpiling for winter on a stranger. The resources would be needed for Julooke and her young infants, and Nerian and his infants when they were born, if the Priestess ever went into heat again. Ragnar's days felt busier than usual, with assisting the wolves that had stuck around with making sure the caches were prepared, on top of his patrols and making sure that Julooke, out of everyone, had enough food for herself and her babes. Ragnar knew Verrine was doing what he could for her but Ragnar figured that the extra concern couldn't hurt. Plus, he cared about Julooke in his own way and didn't want the deaths of her babes on his head. They would survive the winter, of that he was concretely determined.

Ragnar dropped the rabbits he had caught into one of the caches when the howl rose for him. He did not immediately recognize it and thus figured that it was the old man that was at death's door (the one that Ragnar had almost suggested they kill and eat) finally ready to talk to him. That was good; get it out of the way before he went on his trip to the Spine pack in search of the white eyed man that had nearly killed Julooke. Finish up the loose ends so that if a hard and unpopular decision had to be made it wasn't placed at his Queen Wife's paws. Ragnar adored Thistle, and loved her for her bleeding heart and while he knew for a fact she could be a spitfire he couldn't help his concerns that she was soft. Of course it was her softeness that complimented his glacierness. She cared so that he didn't have too. (which wasn't strictly true because Ragnar did care about his pack and it's members).

Swiftly, the scarred Scandinavian covered the cache back up with the dirt he had up-heaved and made his way to where the call had risen from. It did not take him long to find the man, surprised to find that he had stayed in the 'Halda as Ragnar had instructed. He smelled pungent, like medicines mixed with bile and blood, and Ragnar's nicked muzzle wrinkled slightly with disgust. He had smelled worse, of course, but something about being on a battle field, in the aftermath in a river of blood, entrails and carnage did not bother Ragnar. But other things did that really, didn't make much sense. Are you well enough to discuss if you will stay or if you will leave? Ragnar asked him, though it was a bit of a rhetorical question. Likely, there was little other reason why the man would be calling him.

TABLE CODE BY JOHN