Stavanger Bay Frigga bless me

To Atreyu, the call announcing the birth of the leader's children came as a surprise. While he had known Thistle had been pregnant (it wasn't hard to notice, as round as she was), he was unaware of how long she had actually been carrying the pups. He didn't know the first thing about pregnancy — how long did they actually spend in there? What would they look like? Was he even allowed near the den? Questions buzzed around inside his mind as he heeded Ragnar's summons, quickly loping towards the den, both eager and hesitant to see the newest additions to Stavanger Bay.

Already, a small crowd had gathered. Atreyu gave a respectful nod to the Jarl and Aesop before drawing his gaze over a grey-furred boy and Charon, who seemed to both be the same age. Brothers? He skipped greeting them, though, in favour of inching towards the den, though still keeping his distance, wary of the presence of the father that loomed nearby. The heavy, slightly sickening, scent of milk and blood wafted from the entrance, along with the faint, high-pitched squeaks and squeals of newborns. Turning his head so his deaf ear was facing the den — ah, much better — the boy turned back to Ragnar with a toothy grin. "Congrats," he offered with a wag of his tail, truly excited to meet the babies. When they were older, of course.