Ragnar drew in a deep breath, the morning air chilly but not cold — nothing by comparison to the winters that the Eldingar Valley suffered, but this place was not his homeland. He missed the Cove, he missed Eitri. Though Ragnar was nearing his fourth name day he felt so lost and wanted nothing more in that moment than to speak with his father, to hear the man's advice. Advice as a young man Ragnar had been quick to scoff at and spurn. It was a downfall of youth: thinking that he knew all the answers, that he had the world by the rear end. Confidence was not something that Ragnar had ever lacked, believing so fiercely in his Gods. He still did, but Odinn's guidance had never been more confusing to the Northman than it was now. He needed a Seer. Someone skilled at speaking with the Gods to interpret what he could not. It felt as if the language of the Gods had suddenly became unintelligible to him and Odinn was screaming at him in an otherworldly tongue that try as hard as he might Ragnar could not make sense of.

Though Ragnar had always spent majority of his time upon his borders, since stepping down officially from leadership the Jarl practically lived upon them, aware that he had yet to make the journey to the Caldera to return to Peregrine that Thistle Cloud and him accepted the offer, if it was still open to them. Too many things had happened. Ragnar had been busy on the borders, guiding Thistle and offering her his advice when she asked for it, and now Charon was missing. The absence of the uniquely marked Ostrega child left a painful hole in the Viking's heart, an ache that could not be assuaged; the two Ostrega boys having became his own children though they did not share blood. That had never made a difference to Ragnar: not with Tyrr, and not with Gunnar, Mercury, or Gyda. And though he desired to go after the boy, though likely his trail was likely long faded, Ragnar resisted. Charon and Levi, the only two children remaining, for Ragnar assumed Kevlyn and Liyani to be long dead like their parents, was all he had left of his departed friends, and he was failing them all. Over and over. Though Thistle's heat season was over now, Ragnar did not feel inclined to leave his Bay for any measure of time. There should have been no doubt in his mind that his seed had taken for they had consummated several times during her season to ensure that it did; but even so he did not know for sure. Even if he did: he would not leave. He had left Dagmar when she had been carrying his children and they — all of them — had came too early, stillborn.

And now there was the matter of the strange scent all over his prominent urine markings. He could not determine any pack scent but it was unmistakably a wolf despite that it was attempted to be masked with sea brine and salt. Whomever was responsible had not been subtle. Stupid the Berserker thought with a curl of his lips. He knew her scent, lone as it was, though how he had missed her hitting every once of his borders when he practically lived upon them he did not know. All he did know was that she should be kissing the ass of whatever God she worshiped that he hadn't caught her; though Ragnar had every intention of hunting the bitch down and gutting her. He was suspicious of these actions, knowing that he would need to speak with Thistle about it urgently. There was a reason for it, he had no doubt. For the lone female rubbing in his piss markings, there would be no mercy and no remorse because the Viking was confident he would catch her, and that she would rue the day that she crossed his path. He would show her what it was like to piss off a Viking, though she would not live to pass on the message to anyone else who found it tempting to tease him by rubbing in his scent.

She had wanted his scent, though, that much was obvious and that unhinged the Northman, having no motive of any sort and currently nothing to go off of than the individual scent tied strongly as it was the scent of brine and salt.

Ragnar loved the Ostrega boys fiercely, had loved Liyani too for whatever good it seemed to be worth, and again he had watched himself fail as a father as one by one they went missing as well. It brought within him a trepidation towards the knowledge that Thistle was likely pregnant, though as aforementioned he did not know for sure either way. He was weary of children because he was sure that he would fail them, too. He was worse than a deadbeat dad because he could not keep them safe. He was present but he kept making mistake after mistake, masquerading around in the delusion that he was doing a good job. He hadn't been a good leader, either, it seemed. The Bay was flourishing under Thistle's sole rule and though the Jarl was proud of his Queen Wife there was also the question of if he'd been living under a delusion the entire time he ruled at Odinn's Cove. Yet, he was not so ready to be so hard upon himself. This was a great learning lesson for his young wife and she was coming into her own with more fire and beauty than he could have ever imagined. It was as if Freyja and Frigga had merged into one and possessed Thistle. The mother, the queen, and the shieldmaiden.

Heavy footfalls drew the Northman out of his thoughts, though the Berserker did not have to turn his singular eye to look at her to know who it was. He felt her presence like an electricity in the air, sparking along his skin. Ragnar's black, leathery nostrils flared as he took in her scent, truly took it in for the first time, brow knitting as he swung his head to study her with a fierce Caribbean blue eye. She smelled of sick and a warm aroma, not quite of mother's milk yet but something close. Having been around her during her first pregnancy he placed the scent nearly immediately. “You are with child?” He inquired of her, heavily accented voice a low murmur. Despite that the thought, coupled with the strange scent all over his borders made him anxious and nervous but he needed the joyous news to lighten these bleak days.

“There is always trouble on the horizon, my love,” To think that peace was something they could ever accomplish for a measure of time that was not a few brief months was foolish. Though this time, as far as the Berserker was aware, they had not done anything. He could do many things. He had desired to raid numerous times but something had always held him back. Mostly the Bay's lack of staggering numbers. They were not a monstrosity of a pack and though Ragnar only needed a few to raid he did not want to risk taking half of the population down with him if something went wrong. “Dark days are coming to the Bay,” Ragnar was no Seer but it was something he felt in his very core without having much of a reason why. Perhaps it was only paranoia on his part but he doubted it.

His attention lifted from Thistle to the ebony girl who came into view, greeting them casually, though her stance was respectful. Spectra, Ragnar thought her name was. She was of a technical higher rank than him but considering Ragnar operated heavily out of his own hierarchy he offered no acknowledgment of this. He would not bow to his subordinates (technical superiors). The Bay was still his pack, and the wolves of the Bay who technically ranked higher than him would do well to remember such things. Ragnar gave Spectra a quizzical look when she spoke of meeting Odinn, making the mistake of calling the All-Father a wolf. Technically he could take the form but he was a God. “The All-Father came to you?” Why would Odinn come to this girl, whom as far as Ragnar was aware, did not share his religion?

Thistle's tease managed to bring a small ghost of a smile to the Viking's lips though it did not linger there long. His eye swept over her face before it settled upon the supple roundness of her sides, not bulging yet but still noticeable, nevertheless. It was his children that grew within her this time, and while that filled him with a strong swell of pride, he realized that because she was pregnant that the urgency of this sea scented stranger needing to be dealt with had become sevenfold. He would not have her injured, he would not lose his children. “You will have to be more careful now,” Though she likely did not need the reminder he was going to give it to her, anyway. “I will not lose you or our children.” She already knew he did not forgive miscarriages. She had heard the horror story of how he'd given away his second wife to a neighboring pack as a gift because she had killed his children. Perhaps it hadn't been so, but the Viking did not know that it hadn't been her fault. True, he had not loved Dagmar as he did Thistle, but even so he would rather not find out what another miscarriage would cause him to do.

“I do not have to be a Seer to know that something is coming to our Bay and that we need to be prepared,” Scent markers were not so boldly rolled in for absolutely no reason at all. “We should tell the others, maybe in a meeting, a discreet, low key meeting. Let them know that they all have the power to take hostages. I will kill these hostages if they cannot give us Intel that satisfies you, my Queen.” Truth be told, Ragnar just wanted to kill something period. He was blood sick and weary and killing, fighting, and raiding would help to set his unease to rest. When Spectra piped up about the appearance of this supposed “Odinn”, it did not occur to Ragnar that it would be his stolen, estranged son masquerading as the All-Father, though this was because Spectra had left out the most important detail of Tyrr's physical appearance: the silver splashes under each eye. After all, he had no reason not to believed that Odinn would come to his pack mates (after all Odinn took many shapes and sizes), though it did not fail to occur to him that this was a sign of some sort. His eye swept over the girl with a renewed interest, oblivious to the fact that Thistle had taken a step away as if she feared Ragnar might attack her. “Odinn has many names. The All-Father is merely one of them.” Ragnar informed her, willing to share his information of the King God with her, almost excited that at least someone in the Bay had seen Odinn.

It meant that the All-Father still favored them after all, to him.