It was suspicions and assumptions alone that drove Ragnar to extend his patrols, though he breathed no word of it to his fellow wardens just yet, to accompany the long stretch of sea and shore; just as it was suspicions now that drove the savage into the wilds of the Totoka River. They were not apart of Horizon Ridge’s lands but the River was close, a bordering territory and gave Ragnar some leeway to keep his eye on the Isle in the short distance watching for signs of pack life, tracking the scents that trampled carelessly to and fro the shore. If there was one thing Ragnar inherently did not believe in it was coincidence and it put him on the literal edge to hold the knowledge of what he assumed was a newly formed pack close to him without raising alarm. The simple fact was suspicion and the dark stirring, the foreboding feeling in his feral instincts did not suffice as tangible evidence to support his would be claim. Still, he watched, he observed, he waited.

His explorations did not yet take him too far from Horizon Ridge’s borders for the simple fact that his children were still too young, and more to the point Ragnar had yet to perform the Rite of Birth that would allow the other wolves of the Ridge to assist in their upbringing — though Ragnar’s conditions and terms were steadfast and nonnegotiable. If a problem was held against Ragnar’s terms then they did not have to have anything to do with the Ridge’s first litter. It would not bother the colossal Viking in any way; neither would it serve to hurt his feelings considering Ragnar didn’t care enough to consider anything as attaching and emotionally vulnerable as feelings. As far as Ragnar was concerned Thistle and him could handle raising their children on their own.

Ragnar had been an single father once upon a time and while Týr had not been a newborn, infant, or any variation of a toddler he had been difficult enough in his own way suffering from the severe memory loss that had occurred when he had injured his head in the capture. Raising a teenager with no recollection of who or what he was had been measurably hard (though Ragnar had had Floki’s help with it). Ragnar gave a small shake of his head to dispel those thoughts, a pack scent trickling his way causing his hackles to bristle, the thick muscles beneath his scarred pelt tensing as his eyes scoured the lands ferociously, lips curling back as he bared his teeth in consideration until a stronger whiff blew his way and he took a small moment to analyze it. The scent was familiar enough and easily recognizable as non hostile. It belonged to Blue Willow, Blacktail Deer Plateau’s Beta. In the small journey the two had taken together Ragnar had gotten to know her — not what he would consider well but it was enough. Easily he altered his path, though he had not forgotten his original purpose in going to the Totoka River, soon catching her familiar ebony pelt near the River's nearest bank.

The Northman let out a chuff of greeting as he approached wondering what brought her out this way.

The Plateau woman’s attention was easily grasped by the chuff the Viking had given in a unobtrusive greeting, seen as the man watched her muzzle rise from the river’s flowing and cool waters to glimpse his way. Ragnar saw the small smile she offered him and yet could not quite bring himself to mirror it, even a little. It was rare that he smile, making the ones that were genuine and true much more precious, instead he offered her a trademark smirk though as of late he felt like doing anything but smirking; however, his coy smirks were an easy way to hide his irritation, anger and other irate emotions that seemed to be seething beneath the father’s surface. Which reminded him that he would bestow the common courtesy of informing her since they were acquaintances (and he was going for the Outrider rank) — and while Ragnar did not think it would really bother Blacktail Deer Plateau he still figured they might be interested in knowing nevertheless — about his suspicions regarding the Isle. It might not have any sort of effect on the Plateau directly but considering she was roaming around the Totoka River (that may or may not end up being the battlegrounds for some kind of turf war clearly I have an overactive imagination unhelped by Vikings, lol) he figured it would be a nicety to at least give her a heads up.

Before Ragnar could initiate that conversation Blue Willow struck up a different one, obviously remembering what had occurred with their former member Crete. It was rare for Ragnar to even think of the mute man’s name and though it would always bring with it a shiver of hostility within the Viking he was able to let go of the grudge he had once held for a brief amount of time go. Ragnar was poor with holding grudges because he had always figured there was no sense in it. “My family is well,” He responded, salmon pink tongue slipping from betwixt parted lips to draw across his nose and jaws once. “They did, yes, they are about ten days old now.” More or less. Ragnar assumed that Thistle was better at keeping track of those types of things than he was. The whole thing with the potential pack that had maybe Wheeling Gull Isle took up much of Ragnar’s time leaving little thinking processes for how old his children were now. “I believe my daughter is actually mine,” Ragnar confessed to Blue Willow in hushed tones. “She is silver like me. It is a darker silver but still silver.” What Ragnar didn’t realize was that particular shade of silver ran in the genetics of Thistle’s family directly (and Tokio is assuming Thistle did not tell him this, lol).

Ein was definitely too dark. That darkness did not run in the Northman’s family at all, and while Tveir could be his, too, it was hard to tell considering he was basically Thistle’s mini-me. Dagrun was dark because his mother had been an Amazon woman captured by Eitri and therefore did not share full genetics with the Northmen and it had seemed that where his half brother was concerned the Amazon’s dark pelt had won out in coloration.

Ragnar felt her eyes touch upon the scars of his face, even if it was a brief touch that did not linger. He was used to stares, used to the repulsion from wolves that were not of the Cove. The Viking had come to expect it, though this was not Blue Willow’s first time glimpsing them. Many times the stares had followed questions of why; why did he want to scar up his face? A face that he supposed was still handsome if the unscarred side of his face was of any sort of indication. Ragnar really couldn’t say because it wasn’t like he had access to mirror to study himself in. Sometimes lakes gave a mirror like property but the water was always moving and the picture that stared back was typically unclear.

Ragnar was silent as she expressed joy that at least one of the children, as far as Ragnar believed anyway, was one of his own. As far as Ragnar was concerned, in general, they were all his because Crete had long ago lost any right to the children; and though Ragnar did not hold a grudge over the mute man for taking Thistle when he had no right to her body (even though at that time Ragnar and Thistle were far from being mates) the threatening promise he had sworn to Odinn still rang true. If Crete were ever to return and come around the Ridge Ragnar would kill him. “I will give all of my children my equal attention.” Ragnar told Blue Willow a bit stiffly, not wanting Gyda to receive any extra or special attention from him because he believed that she was of his seed. Ragnar had grown up in the shadows of his older and young brothers, the spurned middle child whose achievements exceeded both of his brothers’ combined and his father’s own. The quiet Viking had conquered and still strove to do so even in these Teekon Wilds.

Blue Willow carried some interesting news with her, words that one of the Plateau’s own had deserted them, it would seem without a word &mash; at least that was what Ragnar took from the word ‘deserted’ for a new pack. “If he deserted how do you know that he joined this new pack?” There was a brief moment of confusion on Ragnar’s face as he contemplated her words. “I believe that a male called Majesty from Silvertip Mountain has claimed Wheeling Gull Isle. He spoke of not intending to stay in his pack long when I chased him out of Ravensblood Forest,” Ragnar informed, gaze moving to the Isle coolly. “I am certain it is a new pack but I have to have evidence before I can go to Pump about it,” The Viking spoke with steel in his voice, black, leathery nostrils flaring as he exhaled sharply. “If he has claimed the Isle he is a bigger fool that I thought. He is too close to the Ridge and if I have my way I will make him regret ever claiming it.” Ragnar wanted to make their lives hell for being stupid in his opinion, for not even bothering to inform the Ridge whose claim had been there much, much longer at the very least. “The Isle cannot sustain a pack. They will be in our hunting grounds, yours and Silvertips, not to mention the tide could easily carry them if they cross into the mainland onto our shore.” His hackles had began to bristle just talking about it, but he wanted Blue Willow, as a neighboring pack and as an acquaintance to be aware that if he could get Pump to see his thinking that shit would be going down.

If Ragnar had it his way he would raid them, and try to cut them off of the mainland and would openly attack if he found them hunting on the grounds that the Ridge saw as theirs. Too close. There were penalties and these wolves had made it to the top of Ragnar’s enemies list; of course Ragnar couldn’t do anything without Pump’s permission (which irked him to no end) but he would pester her until she let him have his way. On this, he would not back down upon.

Ragnar had a fairly good understanding that Blue Willow did not think he would give his attentions to his daughter alone, though he did not know for sure and was going off of pure speculation, but he had spoken in regards to his attention being equal, nevertheless. He did not want her, or anyone else, to think that he would spurn the boys because he did not believe they were his as he did Gyda. By marriage alone they belonged to him and Ragnar was no stranger to adopting children (Tyr being the first as his captive turned son). Blue Willow spoke as much — that she had not meant it as it might have sounded — speaking that there tended to be a special bond between fathers and daughters. He did not know because he had never been a father to a daughter, a living one, before.

Their conversation went to Blacktail Deer Plateau’s turncoat and Blue Willow explained that she knew he had joined the Isle wolves because he had sought her out and told her. Ragnar’s brow furrowed, a small v forming between the brow, as he contemplated her words. A traitor that sought out the Beta Female to tell her he was a traitor? There was many ways in which, if he no longer wanted to be apart of the Plateau, he could have went about it without bearing the brand traitor and it seemed, if what Blue Willow was telling Ragnar, he had chosen none of them. “How stupid,” Ragnar observed. It was like their deserter was asking to be killed right on the spot. “I would have killed him.” Ragnar announced truthfully not sure if he admired Blue Willow for her tolerance or if he wanted to scoff at her for it. The fact about being on neutral ground would have held no meaning to the Viking who did not put up with traitors.

Ragnar wasn’t a tyrant. He would never tell a wolf they had to stay in Horizon Ridge but there was a tactful way of going about leaving. By expressing to the leaders, explaining the situation and why they wished to leave. It didn’t guarentee the leaders wouldn’t be upset about it but at least it was better than turning into a traitor who then had the nerve to flaunt it about in said leaders’ face.

Blue Willow mentioned that both the Plateau and the Ridge had puppies to feed which was a valid point but also she had to factor in Silvertip Mountain, too, whom presumably shared hunting grounds with the Ridge and the Plateau. “I do not know much about Silvertip Mountain but I assume they share our hunting grounds as well and even if they don’t, they have their own hunting grounds I believe they would not want the Isle wolves to encroach upon.” In all honesty, Ragnar was relieved that everyone, so far, seemed concerned about the new pack that had sauntered in (or he thought they had seeing as how he had no valid proof yet) and that it wasn’t just paranoia on his part. “I plan to warn them to stay out of the Ridge’s borders and that if they are caught on our hunting grounds my wolves have the right to chase them out and sabotage their hunt.” To another creature it might have sounded rude but Ragnar wasn’t like most and frankly didn’t give a damn about any wolves except his own and his family. “For now, that is all I can do without seeking permission from my Alpha.” It would either be enough, or it wouldn’t be; but that was a lesson Ragnar hoped the Isle wolves were sensible enough to avoid learning the hard way.

Blue Willow was a more compassionate creature than he — though of course he had long since suspected this fact since he had first met her — and it definitely showed by her unwillingness to take action against him just because they’d been in neutral territory. Though Ragnar did not voice it, it would not have stopped him. A traitor was a traitor no matter which territory they stood upon. “And Silvertip Mountain. They are near them also.” Ragnar corrected Blue Willow. “And it would appear that their leader is from Silvertip Mountain,” Ragnar considered the option that maybe he would get lucky and Silvertip would finish Majesty off but Ragnar did not think that Majesty would be fool enough to go anywhere near Silvertip Mountain …but then again, maybe Ragnar was wrong. “I do not know,” Ragnar offered her with a furrow in his brow and a soft sigh of exasperation. All he knew was they were too close and he was tired of losing sleep over their proximity knowing because he was too territorial. “Packs come and go a bit around here,” He hoped for their eventual demise and would not be sorrowful to see them go but then again he tried not to underestimate his enemy too much. “But we will have to wait and see.” Though of the Ridge wolves attempted to sabotage their hunts Ragnar was not sure how long they would stick around, but only time would tell and Ragnar was no Seer.

The less packs there were in their immediate areas the less competition there was and considering Ragnar figured Horizon Ridge and Blacktail Deer Plateau were the oldest standing packs in the Wilds and thusly they had seniority over the others even if it was not so. He did not offer her any further words on the topic of packs disbanding as quickly as they were founded , figuring that it was not only a fact of life but the product of what Ragnar would have considered poor leadership. “Be well,” Ragnar spoke to her in his soft, heavily accented voice, bidding her a smirk of farewell as he watched her depart. It was only when she disappeared entirely from his view that he turned and loped back to the borders of Horizon Ridge glad that she was taking the poaching threat of the Isle wolves as seriously as Ragnar thought it should be taken.