Blue Willow had decided to leave the pack lands at the moment to hunt for Crete for her friends. She had tracked him this far to the forest and then his trail ran cold. She smelled another wolf there though it was faint and waning, but she tried to follow that smell and it brought her to another packs lands. She followed the border up and down, but did not smell Crete, though she smelled the other wolf she had scented though it was light as if it was from transference rather than from the actual wolf.
She sat well outside of the pack lands and lifting her nose to the sky she let out a howl for any and all to come answer her inquiry from this pack. She hoped she could find out what happened to Crete and if someone had seen him. She was hoping if she could find him it may give Osprey some morale as well.
Thistle’s pregnancy was progressing Ragnar watched with equal mixtures of fascination and pride as her sides grew rounder what seemed to be each day. With each sigh of discomfort that left his young wife’s lips Ragnar felt the anticipation for something bad to happen rush and slam against his chest like someone had their teeth wrapped around his heart and lungs. Not having any other pregnancy experience to go off of aside from Dagmar’s which had gone so wrong left Ragnar seeing doom signs in small, normal signs. Despite this he did not fuss needlessly over Thistle, trusting for her to listen to her body and to tell him if something felt wrong. Or, he recalled, maybe she wouldn’t after hearing that he had blamed Dagmar for his miscarriage and then promptly shipped her off to the neighboring pack’s Alpha who had had his eye on her for a while. Ragnar cared for Thistle - not just the babes growing within her womb - there was a major difference between the two girls’ marriage to him. Regardless, he hunted for three now (giving two hares to her since she was feeding more than just herself) before he went about his patrols.
It was during this usual patrol that a call rose up, breaking Ragnar free of this thoughts. The Viking warden wasted no time moving towards the origins of the call, slowing when he came upon the ebony cloaked woman at their borders. Icy, Caribbean blue eyes assessed her once as his leathery, black nostrils widened as he inhaled her scent. It was a scent he knew only because it was very similar to the scent laced with Crete’s musk that had clung to Thistle’s fur after their coupling fresh into her season. The Plateau. Ragnar found her presence here curious and wondered, perhaps with a sneaking suspicion if this was about their Crete.
She returned the gesture she stayed in neutral position though she did avert her eyes. The wolf in front of her was largely scarred and he silvery fur was a huge contrast to her's but she smiled and offered him a greeting "Hello I am Blue Willow Beta and healer of the Plateau. I am sorry to call you from your duties, but I come looking for one of our numbers that has disappeared. Normally I would not do so and let them go on their way, but there are a few in my home that are very close and miss him. His name is Crete perchance you have seen him?
He was not, initially, there to make judgments based upon the Plateau’s delegate random and rather sudden appearance at Horizon Ridge’s borders, and yet judgments and assumptions were being made, regardless. What else would cause her to be there if not for the secret and unlawful tryst between Thistle and the Plateau’s Crete. His name was still thought with razor edged spite that still caused envy to rear it’s ugly head within Ragnar’s chest though he tried not to think about it. Yet, the Viking could not help it. Thistle and his mateship was not founded on love, and the savage was left wondering if she was thinking about him - her one night lover when she was silent, her eyes distant. Perhaps she wasn’t, but there was always the chance that she was and that bothered Ragnar more than he cared to admit. The ebony Plateau wolf returned his greeting and the Warden was silent and stoic as she introduced herself and got straight - a quality he admired - to the point of her visit.
And like a viper that finally rose and struck out at him there it appeared. It. His name. Crete. Tail flicked errantly behind his hind haunches in controlled irritation. There was no part of Ragnar that felt any measurable sort of relief that his suspicions were proven correct. However, it seemed like such a long ago thing - why was the Plateau only now sending out a envoy on the Crete’s behalf?
Again, that was not something Blue Willow needed to know. Ragnar’s discontent was not with her - nor her pack - just Crete.
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The ebony female let out a sharp intake of breath of what Ragnar assumed to be surprise at the Viking’s words. Granted, they were not precisely true and perhaps it was wrong of him to stretch the truth such as he had but he wanted to smudge Crete’s name because he did not want to see the Plateau male get off scotch free even though Thistle had not been Ragnar’s mate at the time and that it had been consented on both sides. Why should Thistle and the babes bear all of the punishment while Crete got off on a Get Out Of Jail Free pass because he appeared to have vanished off the face of the earth. In the truth of things, Ragnar doubted Pump or any of the Ridge’s members cared either way in regards to what happened to Crete and in a way Ragnar himself did not care but he wanted some kind of vengeance even if it was out of nothing but his own jealousy and spite that Crete had claimed Thistle before Ragnar had staked his own claim. Of course, unlike her mute one night lover Ragnar had every intention of staying with Thistle but that was his gain and Crete’s loss.
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Watching the Plateau woman’s expressions dance across her face, muted anger, irritation and maybe even disbelief was a small satisfaction to the Viking as he saw how his words ruined the saintly mute fool from the Plateau. Part of Ragnar’s desire for revenge and vengeance on Thistle’s behalf was his jealousy but also because the more he thought about it the more he came to realize that while Crete had not taken Thistle without her consent he had taken advantage of her and then bailed knowing that babes would be the outcome of it unless one of them were infertile which did not seem to be the case.
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Ragnar never often considered the experience or in Thistle’s case her lack of when it came to his mates because he had no true preference as to if they had known another man intimately or not. Except in this situation, given his rapidly growing affection for his fawn colored shield maiden (and his fear of therefore) he almost wished that he could claim that he was her first. However, he could not and there was no way to ever erase Crete’s initial claim though Ragnar was determined to try. To erase it from her body and her mind because her mute lover was never going to come back to her, did not deserve too even if Ragnar had to see to it himself. The Plateau male’s life meant nothing to him and would only prove to be a rather good sacrifice should Crete ever have returned.
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Ragnar was not very big on alliances, had never been very accepting of the idea that other wolf packs seemed to cling too like a small, frightened child clinging to it’s parents’ leg. It was stupid to form an alliance with a pack only to know that in a few months time you were going to be intruding upon their land, slaughtering and taking hostage their wolves in a raid. Her lack of knowledge given the disappearance of the boy king whose name Ragnar no longer remembered, the ascension of Pump, and the landslide did not exactly surprise Ragnar given that no one had really been out of Horizon Ridge since then and even so they had not sought to spread the news.
It would be a promise he intended to keep, however, he needed to seek out Thistle, now. She, at least, needed to know where he was going and why and he suspected that she would likely wish to tag along though he was going to try to talk her out of it.
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