After lingering in the area of Firestone Hot Springs for a couple of days more, even after his female companion had departed, Ragnar knew that he could no longer linger. Being away from Stavanger Bay for longer, extended periods of time made him nervous and he was feeling his nerves like sharp little razor blades digging into his skin as he roused awake at the call of an owl nearby, it's shrill screech loud and near. While the scarred Scandinavian enjoyed the thrills of traveling he also enjoyed and henceforth missed the company of his Queen Wife and his children. He supposed that he missed Nerian, as well, though her continued seclusion and lack of socialization with him personally, made him subtly begin to question his choices. It was hard to miss someone that barely interacted with you, after all, and she wouldn't even come to him with her fear of children or whatever it was that was wrong with her. Ragnar had to find out through his children and even then she kept it hidden away. Ragnar wasn't sure what to do, and was afraid that his interest in his priestess was beginning to wan. Ragnar knew that he needed to approach her about it but that was a mountain he did not, exactly, have the time to tackle currently.

With a soft snort and a brief pause in his steps to stretch he slowed his approach, the scent of piss markers growing stronger, the scent hitting him like a nostalgic rush. Finally, he had found them. He was still a good stretch of feet away from the Spine wolves' borders, but even so the Viking tucked thoughts of his ruined and crumbling love life away, tucking all of it away so that he was left feeling as stoic as his scarred face usually showed. He was here on business and though his trail had grown cold — a side effect to being a Jarl and unable to just up and leave at the drop of a pin, he was determined to get at least some kind of information or lead on the matter. He would not rest until he knew he could return to Julooke and tell her with confidence that she was safe and that she would never have to worry about her attacker ever again.

Inhaling a deep breath, drawing in the crisp autumn air, Ragnar idled a more than respectful distance from the Spine wolves' borders, tossed his head back and let a howl, announcing his presence to them.

It did not take someone long to answer his call and the creature that approached him, melting out of the landscape caught his icy caribbean gaze easily. He assessed her quickly, canting his head slightly to the side, black leathery nostrils flaring slightly to inhale and taste at her scent in attempts to individualize it from the mass of scents upon the Spine's borders. The Jarl recognized her for what she was almost immediately upon her approach, her stance a tell-tale sign, if the fact that her scent was one of the heaviest upon their borders hadn't also clued Ragnar in on her position within this pack. The Queen herself had came to greet him. A small smirk twitched at the corner of the scarred Scandinavian's lips and for a moment he was silent as her words reached across the space between them, lulling around him. For a further stretch of moments the Viking allowed the silence to settle, knowing that as the Spine's Queen she should, at least, be able to point him in some kind of right direction. Unless she would hide the man responsible for Julooke's near death.

“Hello,” The Jarl parroted her, his heavy accent coming through, accenting the word at the wrong places. He knew that, likely, he had to go about this delicately, especially given the fact that he had been greeted by their Queen herself. As much as Ragnar would have liked, the diplomat in him wouldn't allow him to demand the man's spine as a trophy, and his head as crown right then and there. In due time. “I am Ragnar Lodbrok and I am the Jarl, or Alpha of Stavanger Bay,” Whether she knew of the Bay or not was of no real consequence to him and frankly, not what he was there about. “And I would like to ...inquire about one of your wolves because it concerns one of my own.” Ragnar didn't do this often, and had no idea how to go about it in any sort of delicate manner though it was because he was not a delicate man by nature. At that, the Jarl feel silent waiting to see how she would take his words and if she would be willing to assist him — despite that he had no intentions of leaving until he knew what it was he desired to know.

The Viking might have had no idea how to go about this in any sort of delicate manner he did know how to remain stoic, how to keep whatever anger might have been bubbling up within him concealed. It wasn't a fail proof defense system but most of the time it seemed to be on his side. On the grand scale of things it wasn't the Spine wolves that Ragnar had a problem with. They were far enough away from each other for Ragnar to comfortably not care. He didn't form alliances and he tried to avoid enemies though such things were unavoidable in the world. Ragnar had no problem with war, but that was when he had led the Cove and nearly every single one of his subordinates could fight and fight well. Stavanger Bay was thinning, dangerously, and it would be a lie to claim that it didn't concern him. With each loss of an adult wolf they were left with more children then adults and Ragnar could not see how that would end up working well for them. With each loss of an adult wolf that could hunt the less likely their chances grew to catching bigger game and keeping their caches stocked. Ragnar had weathered worse, though, and was confident enough in his abilities to lead them through even the toughest of hardships. The scarred Scandinavian did not know the meaning of the term “give up”. Sacrifices needed to be given, he knew, and it meant that until their adult numbers picked up he could not have children with his Priestess Wife — providing he didn't come to the conclusion that making Nerian his wife wasn't a massive mistake, which the Viking dithered upon quite frequently these days with her seclusion.

Attention, subtly went back to the Spine Queen as she spoke his name, offering him a pretty little part smile. She was young, this Ragnar could tell, perhaps younger even then Thistle. Ragnar didn't bother stating that he did not often make house calls to the neighboring packs, figuring that it didn't need to be said. Alpha's usually sent their Outriders out for missions if they weren't dire, even if the trail had ran cold as it had, likely done. Verrine was busy with his newborns and Ragnar wasn't about to send one of his sons out on this, especially given that he had no idea what kind of danger might present itself in the future. That left the Jarl, who also doubled as an Outrider. “I do not have a name,” Ragnar admitted, keeping his gaze steady on the Spine Queen's face. “My subordinate was too busy having her neck and throat mangled to be able to ask,” A grim look stole across the Scandinavian's scarred face. “He very nearly killed her and I know my subordinate. She is one of my most trusted and one of the nicest wolves I have ever met. She wouldn't hurt a flea so I sincerely doubt there was any sort of provocation happening,” Ragnar hadn't been there (though if he would have been she would have never been hurt in the first place) so he couldn't say for sure but he knew Julooke and he trusted her word without question. “The only thing she was barely able to tell me was that he had white eyes.” Hopefully, that was enough for the Spine Queen to go off of.

Ragnar did not have to wait long after he gave the Spine Queen the description — hoping that if was enough for her — until she somberly spoke that she knew who it was he spoke of. Eyes of carribean ice locked upon her with an expectancy that was not, immediately, or even a few moments later met. The scarred Scandinavian's brow furrowed. So, that was all she was going to say to him? Just that she knew who it was he was speaking of? Nothing more? Not a name, not a question of what Ragnar planned to do to him? Of course the Viking hadn't dared to consider that this Queen would just willingly let him take justice out upon one of her wolves, guilty or not. Frankly, Ragnar didn't care. He would fight the whole damn pack if it meant getting what he wanted, or he would die trying. It wasn't like dying was a bad thing to him, anyway. It meant he would finally be with Odinn and the Valkyries in Valhalla. That was the ultimate goal, anyway. Everything he did was to ensure his place alongside the All-father come Ragnarok.

“As a fellow Alpha I understand the tough predicament I have just put you in,” That was an outright lie, of course. Ragnar didn't understand — couldn't understand — because he would have either turned over the culprit without so much as a blink or he would have killed them right in front of the one seeking justice to ensure that no more harm would be wrought from their crimes, would the tables have been turned. Ragnar had no sympathy for those who attacked others without provocation, and certainly no sympathy or mercy for criminals, whether he barely knew them or had known them all of his life. Bjorn hadn't been an exception — why should have anyone else been? Ragnar would kill his own son if it was deemed necessary. If it was what needed to be done for the protection and safety of the others.

“Anything you can give me will be helpful. A name even,” But Ragnar wanted more than that, of course. “I will speak to him,” Ragnar spoke gently to her, but the message hidden was there: whether you try to protect him or not I will find him. He had not came this far, he had not taken the time to set back up plans in motion just to surrender now when he was on the cusp of finding he who was responsible for nearly taking a life of not only a subordinate but a friend.

Ragnar was a patient man, when he wanted to be at least. He was a Berserker first, before he was anything else and it was this that kept the platinum Northman patient. He was born in blood and war, and he would not stop until he had his target, and it was his patience that would allow him to wait and make sure he had the correct wolf. A pointless death would not earn his way into Valhalla, and Ragnar knew it, so it was imperative that he did this correctly as opposed to barging head first into it without doing his research first. The girl told him that he was no longer among their ranks, that he left them without a word. While, initially Ragnar might have been suspicious of those words, he did not challenge them. He felt that she was telling the truth without having, really, any viable proof on the matter. Ragnar didn't care where he had to go to seek justice, simply knew that he wanted to seek it, and he wanted the right man. The Spine Queen continued on with the fact that he wasn't a role model within her pack, either, only furthering Ragnar's previously slight suspicion that she was trying to protect him as much as she could. It was strange, given that he'd abandoned them, and according to her he wasn't an A plus subordinate, either. So, why was she stalling?

Eyes of Caribbean ice narrowed at her. All he wanted was a name, or the name of the pack he had thrown the Spine wolves under the bus for. If he were in her shoes Ragnar would have given all the information he knew away without so much as a regret or an bat of an eyelash. Then again, Ragnar wasn't a soft man and believed that the Gods would punish them in their own way, even if it meant they were allowing another wolf to carry out the deed for them. Then again, Ragnar didn't take abandonment lightly, no matter the excuse given to him. “Is that supposed to help me?” The Viking asked as she gave him a title. “How often does he run around calling himself that?” Ragnar inquired, feeling irritation seethe under his skin, assuming that she was, indeed trying to protect him. It seemed stupid to Ragnar, especially when he wasn't even apart of her pack anymore. He'd made his choice so why was she so willing to sacrifice her pack for one man because Ragnar would tear at every foundation if he had too to find this creature.

He would do whatever it took.

“If you cannot give me a name, then at least tell me where I might find him.” Ragnar's tone was soft and encouraging, hiding his irritation well, subtly hinting that he knew that she was trying to protect the man responsible for nearly ending Julooke's life.

Ragnar couldn't say for sure that she was outright lying to him, but he felt suspicious. A man who had resided in her pack for however long Julooke's attacker had been there, had never told them a name? And required them to call him Prince at that? Ragnar knew that he would have never called a wolf 'Prince', mostly because he wouldn't have been Ragnar's prince and beyond that it truly wasn't a title that Ragnar recognized. Not to mention, having a pack member who was so full of secrets just screamed bad news to Ragnar, but then again obviously this little girl was a very different leader than the Viking. Ragnar chose not to respond to her words, accompanied by the girl's shrug of her shoulders. If she wanted to keep her secrets then fine, but she would come to regret it. Sacrificing her pack for one man, it was a stupid, rookie mistake, in Ragnar's opinion. The Spine Queen's tone rose, taking on an almost snappish tone with him, as if he was irritating her now. All he wanted was answers. Would she not do the same, if the tables were reversed? Would she not have expected him to give up the weasel that had abandoned the pack? But perhaps Ragnar took loyalty more seriously than she did.

Ragnar didn't have anything against the Spine, didn't want to have anything against them, but the scarred Scandinavian was not like to forget this, and he hoped, for her own sake, that she never needed his help. Easily, he could have kept coming back to the Spine, asking different wolves until he got answers that he deemed satisfactory. To pit them against the answers that this young Queen gave him today, to see if they all matched up, but he'd been gone too long from the Bay. His search would have to be continued after he convened with his own Queen. Ragnar would seek revenge for Julooke — with or without this young Queen's help. “So it would seem,” The Viking drew with a coy smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as he eyed her once more. In reality, absolutely none of his questions had been answered and he was beginning to feel the press of anger and irritation within his own chest. Ragnar half had the temptation, after the fact, if Odinn saw to it that he won, that he might dump the man's head on her borders as a crude prize. A “thanks” for all of her non-help. “I can tell that you have no information to give to me,” He spoke softly, each word chosen with precision. “Thank you.” Though it was hardly a genuine courtesy. If he had to go to every pack in this Wilds he would. With that Ragnar took a step back, intending to leave, pausing only to see if she had anything else to add before he disappeared, heading back the way he'd came.