Ragnar tried not to let his duties take him too far from the den where his young and new family resided but that was not always the case and though his duty as father should have came before all else — something he firmly believed in, as a surprising family man — he could not shirk his duties as Head Warden and Beta. It was not too much of a burden on the Viking because this was not his first time around that proverbial block; though granted when he and his fellow Berserkers had kidnapped Týr and the boy had lost his memory in the fight and Ragnar had decided to adopt him, he had managed to continue as the Lead Berserker, Jarl and Father and when Ragnar had led Odinn’s Cove he had led it by himself for a long measure. Granted, the boy had not been a newborn but Ragnar was not sure how it could be that different (he was possibly in for a surprise). He tried to make quick work of his patrols without sacrificing the quality of his sentry-like sweeps and moved to linger like a silver, scarred wraith near the den, watching it in the shaded moors, body like a broad and muscled sphinx where he lay, ears alert atop his skull, eyes fixed on the den in the nearby distance.

At the approach of footfalls, the Viking tensed, pushing himself quickly into a sitting position, muscles pulled taunt beneath his coat as he watched the shape emerge, black, leathery nostrils flaring to inhale. He recognized the shape as Julooke — something swinging from the clutch of her jaw, one of the Ridge’s newest members that had expressed her skills in watching pups. While he had not made a decision upon the matter he supposed he would have to make one rather soon, as he rose to all fours and began to head in Julooke’s direction as the woman laid her catch down, her chuff heard by the Viking as he neared. “Julooke,” He greeted her in his soft, heavy, thick accented voice calling the Theta’s attention hoping to draw her away from the mouth of the den where his young children suckled and slept. He had warned her of his tradition, and though she had made no attempts to enter the den, and he had not expected her disobey him but still, he was cagey regardless.

If Ragnar were a different kind of man he might have sheepishly apologized for his behavior but alas, that was not the kind of man Ragnar was so he uttered nothing, figuring his behavior was warranted. As Ragnar watched Julooke turn away from the mouth of the den after setting her catch down for Thistle and greeted him. He returned her greeting silently with a nod of his head beckoning for her to follow him with a silent jerk of his muzzle intending to lead her away from the den, out of Thistle’s ear shot since the children were deaf and Ragnar knew they were not threatened from being reserved. Still, it would assist the Viking in being able to relax when they weren’t so close. His ears were attentive to Julooke’s words, at her suggestion that they get to know each better. “I have time to spare,” With his patrols finished and no one pressing for his attention as a leader, currently, his attention as both Father of the children and as her Beta belonged to her.

It was kind of a strange thing for Ragnar, realizing that someone actually wanted to get to know him, though Ragnar suspected that it was because Julooke was trying to win him over for sitting their pups if they were to need it. In reality, he had no real reason to reject her offer, the pups belonged to the Ridge, according to Pump, not the parents. This was something that the two disagreed on but there was nothing Ragnar could do about it at the present so he simply let it roll off of his back as best he could. When he felt they were far enough away the Viking reclined upon his haunches and invited Julooke to do the same if she wished, positioning himself so he was still facing the den. He stared at it for a few seconds before his gaze fell to Julooke, oblivious to her nervousness (and the fact that his quietness was probably doing nothing for it). He felt awkward if only because he was not sure how exactly he was supposed to approach this type of conversation and after a moment offered her a trademark grin of his for the lack of not knowing what else to do. “So let us talk,” He encouraged for her to go first.

Ragnar wasn’t very good with socialization, had never truly been even when he had been the Jarl of the Cove. He was not loud and boisterous like his kinsmen and while this worked to a certain advantage it also made him seem social inept (which maybe he was), favoring to listen to others talk than listen to his own voice drone on. He studied her then, as she took a moment after he invited for her to begin speaking, though Ragnar did attribute to this to nervousness on her part; merely he assumed she was attempting to gather her thoughts, or rather, questions. Her first question brought with it a brief moment of puzzlement as if she asked him why he breathed. In hindsight, it was like asking something as equally hard for him to define. Perhaps Thistle was better at putting words to what it meant to be a ‘Viking’ than he was. It was his way of life. What did it mean to be a Viking? He could easily use the words the packs he raided had used to define them: heathens, demons, et cetera. “It is a name for my people,” He responded, his brow furrowing as he tried, for his subordinate’s behalf, to attempt to think of the ways he could describe it. “In our native tongue we call ourselves Víkingr. It describes my culture,” Ragnar paused, salmon colored tongue sliding across his lips and nose sure that she would wish to know a bit more about his culture.

“I come from the far North, harsh environments with harsher wolves. It is almost a different world down here, softer, perhaps why so many don’t like me. I have not changed my ways of life to accommodate here and I don’t intend too,” He offered Julooke a trademark smirk of his, shrugging his broad shoulders. He had never came with the intention of making others like him, Ragnar wasn’t concerned which such shallow, people pleasing desires that he did not have. “Our reputation infamously proceeds us; we raid, and kill, and take because our resources are limited and it is survival of the fittest up there,” And if that had entirely disgusted Julooke and wholly changed her opinion of him to a bad one, well than, it was what it was. Ragnar was not in the business of romancing himself to make him seem like something he wasn’t because he felt no shame for his way of life. Why did he have too? Only because it didn’t match up with ‘morals’ — something that everyone seemed sure Ragnar (including Ragnar himself) lacked? It was an extremely vague and basic description but Ragnar was finding it hard to put words to his way of life. “I will be teaching my children my native tongue so they speak both fluently, like I do, and I will teach them of my Gods, and my culture.” Ragnar was aware that it would prove to be difficult because they would not be surrounded by the rich and perhaps, brutal culture that Ragnar had grown up in.

Ragnar would not fail Odinn in making his children true Vikings. He had been brought here by the Allfather to rise a Viking pack, and to convert those that were willing to learn the way of life. So far he had fallen behind and internally, the Viking feared that he would lose the Allfather’s favor.

Ragnar was too quiet, and though a far cry from shy he was a private creature. Though his time as Jarl of the Cove had opened up Ragnar to the idea of socializing that worked against him. Even as the Head Warden he was terse on what he told strangers and on most occasions did not offer information willingly such as his name; in fact it was because of Pump that most of the wolves knew what his name was, not that they would not have found out eventually. Julooke assured him that he was not judged because of his culture, nor because of what he had done despite that he was a far cry from ashamed of it. As it was, he didn’t see anything wrong with it and that was probably in where most wolves had a problem with the assertive, ambitious Viking; he was unchanging, holding steadfast to his beliefs and culture in a world where those ways were apparently frowned upon. Surprise flitted across Ragnar’s face when Julooke seemed to feel remorse for how he lived. It was not something they shared in and so the Viking remained silent. She did not need to feel pity for his culture, they were proud of who they were but Ragnar suspected that might have not been received well by the woman and so he kept it to himself favoring silence.

Her question was a rational one and the Viking gave her a thoughtful little smirk. Since his arrival here months ago he had not raided or killed, but that was not to say that he didn’t yearn too. It was more of a yearning for raiding than killing he had not often joined in on that unless they were met with retaliation. He had brought the idea up of raiding to Pump but whether she would allow him to train wolves for it, whether anyone would want to raid to begin with giving their ‘morals’ he did not know it would take well with the wolves in the Ridge. She seemed eager to please to his savage side but he did not know how well these wolves would take the idea. If it were up to Ragnar they would have raided already. “No,” But if he was given the chance? There was no contest that his answer would be ‘yes’; however, he was not the kind of leader that needlessly risked the lives of his pack. He had lead the Berserkers too long for that green boy mistake. It was always wise, no matter what, to let the opposed make the first move to see what they would do.

“I think so,” And even if they didn’t Ragnar wasn’t giving them a choice in the matter. They were Vikings, it was their birthright and he would teach them of his ways and his native language. If they chose, when they were older, to go a different path then there was nothing he could do about it at that point but until they were of an age to make decisions for themselves they were stuck with ‘Viking lessons’. Odinn couldn’t punish Ragnar for their adult decisions but he could punish him if Ragnar didn’t try to make them into Vikings. At her offer to assist him with that, the Beta leveled a considering stare at the woman, appraising and assessing her carefully. In this, he saw an opportunity arise and Ragnar wasn’t the type of man to hold back. “You would learn my culture just so you could teach my children?” Either she was desperate to be a caretaker or there was a part of her that was interested. As it was, Ragnar wasn’t sure which it was but he would not turn her away if she was interested in learning. “Ok. If you learn my culture and Gods, I will let you aid in caring for my children.” He made his deal to her, because his Gods were essential and while she did not have to practice the culture or religion herself she would need to learn it to get what she wanted. That was Ragnar’s condition. Of course, if Julooke wanted to be a Viking, at the end of it, he would not deny her the rite of passage but he didn’t hold his breath for that.

One thing at a time, for now, he decided.

Julooke’s response was satisfying enough for Ragnar and so he nodded as she explained that she would do the same for any parent. “Good,” Said the Viking with a soft simplicity. He suspected that he did not have to tell her that her willigness to learn his culture and beliefs to be able to teach his children and gain herself the ‘Caretaker’ trade was admirable and would get her far within Horizon Ridge’s ranks. Already it had her in his good books which was a good place to start in the terms of where Ragnar was concerned. He slowly slid down from his reclined position to a familiar sphinx-like one, relaxing a little bit further in Julooke’s presence than he had previously allowed himself. She was a pack mate after all, and she posed no immediate threat to his wife or children as she had been clear to insinuate to him. “I will teach them my native tongue as well,” He informed her as an after thought, though he did not intend to teach Julooke — not that he wouldn’t if she was interested but that it was probably too much to learn just to teach pups. “You do not have to learn it but I will encourage them to use it often among each other and to use the common tongue when speaking to every one else.” It was very similar to what Dagrun and him did when they were around each other. The language was just as much apart of the culture as anything else was.

Ragnar understood the possibility that they could use the ancient Norse to talk back and forth to one another without Julooke (or Thistle) being able to understand most, if not all of what they said. It was an easy way for them to get into trouble; but they were children and they would get into trouble whether they spoke only the common tongue or others. Her smile was large, her tone enthusiastic and the Viking could not help the soft chuckle that rose from his lips. Her enthusiasm was appreciated and her ambition was something that the Viking could not help but admire because he had his own ambitions. It was nice to know that she was eager to get started in proving herself to them, though Ragnar was only half of the leadership she had to prove herself too (and to his chagrin not the important half). He considered her question of when they could get started. “We could start today, if you wish. I won’t overload you on information today, but I could explain in detail the Rite I need to perform and why no one is allowed to see the children until they are a month old. It is an important part of my culture where children are concerned and it is a start.” He had whole generations of knowledge, generations of an entire culture and Gods and beliefs and it was a lot more information than he could tell her, or even attempt to summarize in a couple of hours.

So Ragnar considered it was probably best to start small and with the most relevant thing and work outwards from there.

“If you would like,” Ragnar agreed, covertly approving of her ambition and the lengths of which she was willing to go to aid in his (and Thistle’s) teaching of their children. He would not keep her from learning anything that she wanted to learn. “In my culture the month between their birth and their first month of age they are not recognized as a part of the pack, or the family and they have no rights,” There was a struggle to explain it right, to find the words to assist her in understanding. Currently, he hadn’t even spoken the details of why he was so adamant about the Rite to Thistle and why he was so strict on not letting anyone but Thistle and himself near the den. Mostly, it was his ill guided desire to protect her from the cruelties of the culture she had married into, converted into. While Ragnar knew that Thistle understood that he was dangerous and this culture was “cruel and ruthless, savage” there was a part of Ragnar that considered she did not know the extent of it. Of course Ragnar did not share in the thoughts of his culture being cruel expect when he was attempting to consider it from another’s point of view, or unless they outright told him.

He inhaled deeply and let it out. “That means that if someone were to go into the den and kill them it would not be considered murder and I could not do anything.” Of course Ragnar had conveniently let that out when he had been vying for their life at the meeting but that was long in the past and Ragnar felt that it was safe to explain it now. “The Rite will acknowledge them as a part of my family, and the pack and it bestows the rights that come with that to them.” Meaning that after the Rites if someone was to kill them it would be considered murder and Ragnar would be able to seek revenge. “Currently warning everyone to stay away from the den is all I can do and hope that my warning and threat is severe enough.” The Viking offered Julooke a grim twitch of his mouth before he shrugged. It had been that way for many generations and Ragnar was too far rooted into his culture and religion to dare going against traditions.

Julooke wasn’t wrong, not really, Ragnar reflected, he would move Valhalla and the other Great Halls to protect his children, his parental and territorial instincts were just too strong. Yet, no one was above the law — not even the Gods and their culture was clear. Until the Rite was performed by the head of the family, the father, they were not apart of the pack. It was just the way it was for Ragnar. He understood that these wolves did not follow his culture but Ragnar refused to forsake it (in hindsight he did not want to face Odinn’s wrath or be barred from Valhalla). The Viking was silent, reluctant to admit to her that she was correct but also not wanting to try to explain that no matter what he felt, he could not truly stop it (he could try, of course). He watched her go in silence, watching as she disappeared into the distance before his stoic, sentry-like gaze fell back upon the den resuming his watch of it, ears at attention once more as he listened to the sounds of nature and summer, life all around him.