After concluding that Hati might have went back to Fenrir (though the thought didn’t seem to comfort Sköll) he had no real reason to be out this far. The activity around Wheeling Gull Isle had seemed to pick up since he had last been there though he, for the most part ignored them. They were far enough away now that they didn’t concern him (he was still passing his nosy-ness off as being an Outrider but he was in no mood to pick a potential fight with them over it). Today, explainable he had caught sight of the one eyed raven early in the morning. Odinn, and there was a pull, a inkling that whispered in the back of his mind that he needed to go to the Ravensblood. Needing no more encouragement than that the Viking had set out.

What he had found there was nothing short of unexpected to the scarred Northman having crossed the scent of his wife and second born in the forest. He supposed it wasn’t surprising and assumed that she was either taking him exploring or telling him of the …history of the place. At the very least it held significance to the Loðbrók couple. He had followed it, thinking that, if it was a history lesson, he might barge in and offer his own stories to entice their youngest son but slowed when he heard Thistle speaking in a quiet, gentle tone that sounded as if she were attempting to calm someone but had the distinct feeling based off of her word choice that she wasn’t speaking to Tveir. He shrugged through the last bushes and trees in his way, eyes of Caribbean ice studying the small black child Thistle’s attention was focused upon. She looked wet and frightened and thinking of his own daughter with a sharp pang in his heart Ragnar’s head lowered as he approached the scene (trying, if it was possible with his scars) to make himself appear less…threatening. "Hello," Ragnar mimicked his wife, glad that his voice was naturally quieted and soft lacking the boisterousness of many of his ilk. "What is your name?" He asked her as he moved to Thistle’s side, mindful of Tveir.

Ragnar was hit with a bought of déjà vu when she spoke that her head hurt before having smacked herself in the face with her paw. It was reminiscent of Sveinn when Floki and Ragnar had captured the boy. He, too, had suffered a head injury though she, at least, remembered her name. Sveinn had suffered amnesia in what the Viking Healer had considered permanent. Of course, this scenario was vastly different. The child was much younger and the river had stolen her from …where ever she was from. He glimpsed down at Tveir when his son spoke to him in their native tongue. "já, tveir. vera varkár. við vitum ekki hversu slæmt hún er sár enn." The Jarl responded to his young Thistle mini-me before he met his wife’s gaze and his ear twitched to catch her stage whisper to him before his gaze went to the girl. Thistle’s gaze nearly dared him to tell her no, but even without her assertiveness in the situation he hadn’t intended on leaving the girl. She was alone, frightened, and injured. And Odinn had encouraged him to go here. There was no doubt in Ragnar’s mind that this was Fate. He did not know the ramifications of it yet but he didn’t need to know.

Currently their priorities were pretty clear: get her headache under control, keep an eye on that goose egg for a few days and make sure she ate what Ragnar thought a child of her size, he suspected she was a little older than his own, should have been eating. "Thistle," Ragnar stage whispered to his wife after she had given out an appropriate dosage of poppy seeds. They were tiny, like the Berserker mushrooms and the Viking wondered if they packed the same kind of punch. Except he had never felt tired from the mushrooms, only feverish and delirious when he came down from the high and the blood frenzy they were thought to induce. "She looks old enough to eat meat without being regurgitated, right?" He inquired proving, again, just how little he knew of small children. He was by and far used to Thistle regurgitating meat for their children even if it still made him uncomfortable and caused him to avoid feeding time for them like the his small family had the plague.

"No, if the poppy seeds don’t work get Sköll’s opinion before you give her those," Ragnar murmured to Thistle. Sköll had plenty of experience with them and Ragnar was not sure if he would even recommend giving such a small child berserker mushrooms to dull the pain. They had bad side effects, of which Ragnar didn’t even know he suffered from. "I don’t even know if he would recommend it." Sveinn was a different case if in age alone. Her response of food as she neared and took interest in Tveir wasn’t overly specific but Ragnar nodded to the girl nevertheless figuring he would just catch her something nice, or if they still had venison stashed in a cache moved over that the bear hadn’t destroyed before they had moved he would give her some of that.