His dreams the night previous were horrific …like the claws of a nightmarish beast tearing into Ragnar’s heart, constantly keeping the wounds of Pump’s death — so fresh — wide and gaping, the weight of it, the knowledge of the bear of which was no longer benevolent parading around Horizon Ridge and the ever present stress of Wheeling Gull Isle’s presence rose into a shapeless abyss of smoke that felt as if it were suffocating him as he tossed and turned, restless. Blood. Not the first time Ragnar had ever seen another’s lifeblood pooled at his paws, not the first death he had ever witnessed and yet it hit him hard though the Viking knew why. He had developed a platonic affection for Pump, respected her deeply as a fellow leader, as a woman. And the Gods had seen fit to rip her from him, from them.

Why do the Gods give with one hand, and take with the other?

Fighting the bear was not an option to Ragnar …he would not needlessly risk the lives of more wolves on a vengeance bent beast that had graduated from disrupting and stealing from their food caches to killing them. The Ridge was no longer a safe haven for them…if, following the tragic events that had happened there since his arrival into their ranks, it had ever truly been. The territory felt dark to the Viking and with the encroaching presence of their newest neighbors he had a decision to make. Or rather, it had already been made for him he simply had to see it through and bring the Ridge wolves to safety. He was their sole leader now and their lives fell upon his shoulders to protect with a new weight than it ever had as his title as Head Warden.

When Ragnar had set out the morning, letting Thistle, the Gamma (his wife) and second highest in command in charge trusting her to do what would need to be done if something happened in his absence either to him or the pack, he had set out with the intention of surveying the territories along the Coast with the intent of looking for a new home. A place away from other packs, where prey was bountiful, where they would be safe and could prosper without the impending loom of a territory war or a murdering bear. He wanted to lead them very far away but his children had been born in these Wilds, and also he knew the journey would be very taxing and tiring on them even though he assumed Thistle, Julooke (or whomever else wanted to share the burden) could carry them when they grew tired. The Rite of Passage needed to be performed but at the same time Ragnar felt that the Gods would understand the sheer importance of this task…or he would perform a quick one in private, behind the scenes to fudge through, to sate the Gods until an official ritual could be properly performed.

At first Ragnar had began heading in the direction of Ravensblood Forest only to pause when Huginn or Munnin (it was hard to tell the ravens apart) lighted down a few feet in front of Ragnar as if barring his path. Until it turned it’s head and let out a shrill cry showing Ragnar that it was missing an eye. To anyone else this was pure coincidence. It was obvious it had been plucked out in a vicious scuffle with another bird but to Ragnar he saw it as Odinn, as the All-Father in the flesh of one of his most sacred animals and without hesitation when it took flight in a totally different direction, Ragnar followed obediently. It led him further down the Coast, farther than he suspected any wolves had been in some time, to a stretch of shore and free lands he hadn’t been before.

There was a craggy cliff that rose up in the quickly diminishing distance that stretched past the shore and into the sea itself, the rock as the raven and wolf approached worn smooth by the ebbing and flowing of the salty tide over the vast stretch of years. There was an arching curve in the middle of it on the beach that the raven led the Viking through, ears alert, nose twitching as he dissected the scents smelling nothing but wild lands and sea. Through the archway led to a long curve of shore, the other side blocked off by a second cliff, and as he turned his eyes opposite the sea there was a give of tall grasses and flowered shrubbry, a small slope that as he climbed gave way quickly to an forest, full of tall ash trees and cedars, hickories, the occasional pine. Some of the trees closest to the sands of the shore were bleached bone white from the salt, others still holding their original colors against the salty brine. The forest was ancient, it was easy to tell, and Ragnar followed the Odinn raven through it’s winding paths, catching the scents of elk and deer and even heard the call of a quail in the distance. It seemed to attract their prey with the air of safety the bay and it’s accompanying forest provided, nestled, hidden away by the cliffs that rose to conceal it.

The Odinn raven let out another shrill cry, eccentric songs of native birds answering it and Ragnar glimpsed up on the branch of an ash tree where the Odinn raven had landed staring down at him with a beady eye in a manner that Ragnar would have called expectant. He looked to the east for a moment, studied the towering Silvertip Mountain in the distance seen even over the rise of the cliff. This forest held many mysteries the Viking sensed and shrugged past the last bit of trees studying the chasm between the cliffs which had once, obviously, a very long time ago had been connected, at the stretch of Teekon Wilds that met him, glimpsing what he thought might be Neverwinter Forest in the horizon. “This is where you want us to go, Odinn?” Ragnar glimpsed at the bird who let out a cry, softer this time, that the Viking took to be a confirmation. “Thank you, All-Father.” It would do quite nicely for the Ridge wolves.

The sight of Pump’s body so very far broken beyond any and all hopes of repair had been hard, it had been gruesome; the place where she had passed from the world, where her lifeblood had poured onto the sands and into the ebbing and flowing tide was still rank with the putrid scent that a significant amount of blood left in it’s wake. It was this that Ragnar did not hold it against the wolves that did not show. Not all were made to see such a sight. It had shaken even he and he had seen and caused death more times than he cared to admit. Ragnar only wished that he had been able to keep Thistle from finding it, too, that he could have shielded her from it because watching her scramble to gather her little herbs and tools in what they both knew was a futile attempt to patch her back together (Thistle could work miracles sure but not the kind of miracles that magically healed severed spines and pushed blood back into a body) when Pump had been fated to die that day, had been the hardest for Ragnar to bear. He and the few others that had gathered had taken care of Pump’s body and Ragnar had dived straight into work, giving him time for the little and nightmare ridden sleep he had gotten.

There was no time for rest. Not with a pack in mourning and a violent wolf murdering bear on the loose in their territory. He had sent the warning out for all of the Ridge to hear, hoping that their dens might shield them if it came prowling through the night. While the Viking had desired to be with and comfort his wife he hadn’t because he felt that he couldn’t.

So fixated on following the Odinn raven as Ragnar had been he failed to notice that Julooke was trailing behind him and was startled, hackles bristling in a moment when his guard had been let down at her chuff; only to spin and face her. “Julooke,” He breathed her name in relief when he realized who his companion was. “I did not realize you were there,” He admitted sheepishly, having taken the liberty of comfort that was not his to take. She stated that she had followed him and asked him where they were as the distance between them diminished. It was an unexplored part of the Teekon, Ragnar had assumed though knew that it likely wasn’t accurate it had just, likely, been forgotten about nestled away as it was. “I believe we are still in the Teekon Wilds, look there is Silvertip Mountain, and over there is Neverwinter Forest,” He gestured with his muzzle to show that he had not led her as far as it had seemed. Yet, the distance from the other packs was nothing short of relieving. As of now, there was no one encroaching on the small slice of paradise the raven had led them too.

For a moment the Viking was contemplative though the name of the territory needed no thought. It had came to him, whether from his outrider observation of the land around him or divine intervention. “We will call it Stavanger Bay,” It flowed easily off his tongue, a mix of his native language and the common tongue and he knew, within his heart with the certainly sanctioned only by true conviction that it was where they might find peace, where they were to prosper and grow as a pack …and as a family. This Stavanger Bay was their future. “And it will be our new home, Julooke.”

Watching as Julooke shrunk down and tucked her tail between her legs as her ears laid down upon her skull, and hearing her whimper almost made Ragnar apologize. It had been his own fault for not being more perceptive of the world around him, so caught up as he had been in the allure of this ancient place and the mystery raven (who he swore was truly Odinn) who had led him here. “It is alright, Julooke,” He assured her, pressing his muzzle against her cheek to silently tell her to rise. “I have been tense since the Isle wolves claimed their little island and Pump’s death and the bear has not made it any better, yet I let my guard drop in the feeling of safety and comfort this place gives me,” And then the Viking smirked at his subordinate, his friend and let out a soft laugh. “I have forgotten the first Outrider rule already,” He teased at his own expense.

“Yes,” Ragnar confirmed though he felt as if her question had been a rhetorical one. “My time as Jarl of Odinn’s Cove and as lead Berserker taught me many things, Julooke. A reckless man will lead his wolves …his family,” For that’s what a pack was, right? A family. “to their deaths because he cannot rationalize. It is stupid to needlessly risk the lives of wolves. I will fight for this pack, for our family until I draw my last breath but I will not lead you into what I know is a lost cause. It is better for us all to relocate here, we can grow and prosper here. The prey trails are numerous and are of an abundance and any sea creature that beaches onto the shore is fair game. I learned that survival of the fittest is not just something spoken in a physical sense but also pertains heavily to the side of sense and reason as well.” It was a lengthy monologue that slipped from betwixt his lips but he simply wanted Julooke to understand why he had made the decision.

“Yes,” Ragnar spoke with a soft smile, “Lets explore.” He gestured for her to lead the way since she had been the one to suggest it.

His jest spoken with him at the butt of it made the woman chuckle and Ragnar smiled softly at her watching as she grew serious, his ears cupping forth when she spoke of Odinn. He glimpsed behind him to see the one eyed raven, head cocking to glimpse at them from it’s single eye, feathers ruffling for a moment before they smoothed back to give it’s sleek, aerodynamic design, before the Viking looked back to Julooke. “I believe so,” Ragnar agreed with her assessment. He still shouldn’t have let his guard down so readily, even so, but he had and now had learned from it. Luckily, it had just been Julooke and not some stranger he had left himself exposed too. At least he did not have to worry about Julooke killing him and though she had startled him at first and he had set out alone he was glad for her presence and company now. Plus, he figured it couldn’t hurt to sneak in a pop quiz or a small lesson, even.

In a way, Ragnar was trying to convince himself that he would be a good leader to them, as he had been in Odinn’s Cove to his fellow Vikings. Or perhaps it hadn’t been a convincing of his skills as a leader so much as it had been convincing himself that he was not being a coward by seemingly running away from their problems. He was a warrior after all, had been born in blood and battle. Battle was said to be bred in the Northmen and Ragnar didn’t doubt it. They were all capable fighters, even the women. He felt, though, that the Ridge wolves didn’t and wouldn’t see him that way because in reality he wasn’t being a coward. He was being smart and careful; however he knew the action would probably look cowardly to Majesty and the thought that the fool of a man who led the Isle wolves might consider Ragnar a coward was near enough to boil the Viking’s blood.

He did not want to instigate a war. They didn’t have enough fighters for that and it would be nothing but useless bloodshed. He did not know the strength of Majesty’s little Isle and did not fancy risking the lives of the few fighters they did have on something that shouldn’t have ever happened in the first place. Majesty shouldn’t have ever claimed the Isle especially when he knew he would be boxed in by the Ridge, Silvertip, and the Plateau. In Ragnar’s opinion it had been stupid, but because he couldn’t force them to leave (and frankly did not like the territory of the Ridge anymore given that he was fairly certain it was cursed with tragedy and death) he was correcting what he thought was wrong and solving all of their problems diplomatically.

“Thank you, Julooke,” The words were strange coming from the Viking, rare as they were; yet they remained genuine all the same. He followed after her in silence, his pace leisurely as he took it all in, letting the serenity of the place, free of the burdens that plagued him whenever he was within the Ridge lift from his body as if it were sucking toxic tendrils of essence out of him. This forest was strong, old, it had history that they might never know of, some trees were saplings but most of them towered to the heavens, their bark thick and as tough as boiled leather. In many ways, it reminded him of Odinn’s Cove, where he and the generations before him had been raised. “It is,” Ragnar agreed at her observation, slowing his pace to a stop when she did, letting his eyes take in the lake that spliced through the clearing offering a clean water source for them and their prey.

He drew up along her side and followed her gaze to the water, watching as the fish darted away from their looming shadows. “After we settle in here I will hold a Festival that we held in the Cove every year. We feast and give offerings to the Gods…sacrifices namely, to thank them for all they do for us, for our children, and for the continuation of their favor and ask things of them, on occasion. I will only force my family to attend it but any others will be welcome who wish to join in,” His gaze lingered on his rippling reflection for a moment in silence. “I think the Gods deserve it for they have given us this Bay,” Without the Odinn raven Ragnar would have never found it and though he still did not understand why they gave with one hand and took with the other he had to show his appreciation, loyalty, and love, regardless.

Ragnar was a seasoned journey man though he could hardly call the journeys he had taken as out-riding. When he had explored it had been with the intention of raiding a pack when they came across one, but it had been exploration nevertheless. It had been fun, in a sense, to take a handful of wolves across lands in search of a pack that had not yet heard of them and did not expect them to come in and steal what they thought the Cove needed, to travel and see new things. Despite his versatile ability to travel he had, before he left Odinn’s Cove to come to Horizon Ridge, never actually left his birth pack. He had intended to stay there until his dying day, even, until Odinn commanded different of him.

At her question about the sacrificing Ragnar’s left, scarred ear twitched at the same time as his lips. It was a wry twitch though as if he were about to explain something unpleasant to her and, likely, he was. He had not mentioned what he had to sacrifice, either. Prey mostly, but a wolf was needed too. If he had to he had already deduced he would make that scarification in secret, some place secluded and private. To not sacrifice a wolf, which was always sacrificed when the Cove did it, felt like he was cheating the Gods and the last thing Ragnar wanted was their ire upon his head, or by association the heads of his wolves or his children. “No the sacrifices are for the Gods. They will be drained of blood and buried where their blood stains the earth so the Gods might find them, take what they want and leave the rest for Midgard or the earth.” It was an arduous task letting them bleed and then digging and burying them but the Gods, of course, were worth the effort.

He looked away from the lake then as he watched her distorted reflection fade from it and followed after her, giving her an encouraging nod when he saw her peer behind her shoulder to see, he assumed, if he was following.

The look of shock on Julooke’s face was not entirely unexpected to the Viking and for a moment he wondered if she was disappointed in him. He studied her for a second longer trying to gauge any further reaction but looked away at her ‘hmm’. The problem was, he might not have been opposed to letting his wolves dine on the sacrifices but they had never done it in the Cove, they had always buried them and that was what Ragnar suspected the Gods wanted. He would not take from the Gods and invoke their ire in him or anyone else. His reverence and love for the Gods was great …but so was his fear of them. They proved they had not qualms of giving with one hand and taking with the other and he was sooner appease them than upset them lest they take something truly dear to him like one of his children. The All-Father had already taken four of them once before they could even be born and Ragnar wasn’t about to test Odinn or any of them.

He let her brave on ahead of him without feeling the need to match his pace to keep up. He did not fear the ancient woodlands here and had not scented or sensed any kind of lurking danger. The Viking ambled on behind her at his own, leisurely pace enjoying the stolen moment of serenity. He did not like letting Horizon Ridge go too long without his presence but he knew Thistle could handle it for however much longer he was out here. He did not intend to stay for too long today, but it was nice, also, to let the burdens that had plagued every waking and sleeping moment of his life to be lifted for a time. He glimpsed up as he moved searching for the one eyed raven so that he might show him to Julooke only to let out a grunt when his subordinate mock pounced on him, after the thick foliage had began to rustle. He recoiled back some, ears laying half mast atop his skull as he let out a barking ‘heh’ noise and indulged her in her play by attempting to playfully tackle her to the ground as it was his goal in mind.

His attempt at tackling was successful. His body made contact with hers as he tumbled her to the ground where he watched her fall to her side. Triumph colored the Viking’s expression as he grinned, impishly, down at her, only to let out a playful growl, the movement of his head sharp, teeth bared in a playful rather than aggressive manner when she grabbed a hold of his leg in her jaws. The glint of the savage’s eye was mischievous as he examined her jaws still closed around his leg and aimed to nip, spiritedly at her cheek before unceremoniously he plopped down, aiming to sit on her in retribution for the capturing of his leg which would likely be wet with her saliva when she finally let go of it. It was fun, and for a split second reminded him of his childhood play fights with Sveið, a young shield-maiden who had trained with him when Ragnar was but a boy apprenticing under Eitri to be a Berserker. “Ok, ok,” Ragnar gave in with a sigh hating to cut the fun short as he shuffled off of Julooke not wanting to accidentally crush her, or injure her or anything. “Lets explore some more.’ The Alpha offered a proposition to his subordinate as he managed to detach his leg from her (whether she let it go or not) and led the way into the depths of the forest, only pausing to peer back to see if she was following once before he continued on.