Horizon Ridge Calmness is the cradle of power.

This is for @Ragnar Counselor trade and Julooke's hunter trade.

The past few days had found Julooke quite busy focusing on her caretaker trade. She was excited about the opportunity to work with pups again, and was diligent in showing both Ragnar and Thistle Cloud that she was capable and trustworthy. Today, though, she needed to go hunting. While she would catch smaller game everyday for the pack, she hadn't yet caught something larger. A deer would prove quite the catch and feed the whole pack for the next several days.

Julooke was trotting at an even pace, her nose to the ground and her ears perked, silently moving among the brush and trees. She had been tracking a herd of deer for a short while. The warm afternoon had moved them into the shade of the trees. As their scent got stronger, she slowed until she stopped. She could tell they were close, but she couldn't see them yet. They were oddly silent, it seemed. She stood stock still, not trusting a movement for fear it may scare them off. At the very least, she knew they weren't running, so she had no need to worry she would lose them. She knew she was taking a risk trying to bring one down herself. In hindsight, she should have sought out a partner. If she left know, though, she could lose them.

Thank you for starting! <3

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Ragnar had been keeping an eye on Julooke as the prospect caretaker for their children when they were a month old and the Rite had been performed. She was the first to approach the Loðbrók couple about becoming the ‘official’ Caretaker though this, Ragnar assumed was because she strove for the official trade title. Thus far it appeared that the Loðbrók children were to be the Ridge’s only children this year, despite that the year was still relatively young, and even if they were not the only children Horizon Ridge would know in the current year they were the first not only for the year but for the pack as well. Ragnar understood the curiosity and zeal of his pack mates and so long as they concurred to his terms and conditions though, technically, he had no rights to set any such thing seeing as how they belonged to the pack as a whole and not Thistle and him specifically, Ragnar did not foresee that there should be any problems. Julooke showed great initiative in subjecting herself to learn his culture, religion and language so she would be allowed to aid Thistle and himself in the rearing of the Nameless children. In this, Ragnar was profoundly impressed with her though he did not intend to tell her this in the near future. Whether she realized it or not she held his respect and even rarer so trust though he had yet to let on to this.

He had been working his patrol when he had caught her scent, intricately weaved in and out with the scent of a herd of deer, both canine and venison tracks fresh. Head lowered as black, leathery nostrils flared inhaling the tracks again, simply to enforce. Leg lifted to strengthen the strip of border he was at before he altered his course and moved at a predator’s brisk pace in the want of catching Julooke. Her trail indicated that she was hunting them alone and while Ragnar was a much more impressive warrior than he was a hunter he was fairly decent considering he had to be or he would have starved a long time ago. Soon, the silver Viking came upon his subordinate, slowing his pace and moving as silently as he could, icy Caribbean eyes zeroing in on the herd, following the direction of her gaze. Lips twitched ever so slightly before they parted to let out a slow, breathy pant to expel the warmth that had built up from his patrol as he boldly moved to Julooke’s side. He spared her a glance then to silently communicate that he would aid her in taking down one of them, if she were looking for a partner. He did not risk vocalizing lest they overhear and scatter, spooked. They had an opportunity and it was unnecessary to let it pass.

Anytime! :-)

The moments passed by and Julooke just stood and watched. She was looking for any signs that one deer might be easier to catch over the others. She felt, rather than heard, an approaching wolf. They were well within the packlands, so the chances it wasn't a pack mate was slim. There were too many wolves here that would attack an intruder, no questions asked. Her attention was momentarily distracted from the deer, as Ragnar walked up beside her. She was impressed with his ability to stalk quietly. His presence, his glance, told her everything she needed to know. Her own gaze turned back to the deer. She thought they would be out of luck when she caught it- one of the deer was trying to conceal a limp. As it was grazing, the body turned more to the side, and she seen the wound on its back leg. It wouldn't have been a particularly bad one if it wasn't so infected. It was the advantage they were looking for. Her gaze went to Ragnar, then pointedly back to the deer. That's the one they would go for.

Silently, she stepped to the left and forward, planning to take the left side of the deer, and work at separating her from the rest of the herd. Julooke got as close as she could without giving herself away to the deer. She sought out Ragnar once more, and waited to make sure he was ready. Suddenly, a movement from the top of the trees, birds chirping their alarms, and the deer began to run. Julooke was after them in a flash, her muscles propelling her forward, her jaws open so she could suck in oxygen as she ran. She jumped over fallen trees, dodged the ones still standing, and was finally just behind the deer they wanted. Her jaws went for the good back leg, hoping to injure it. The deer kicked mid-air and caused Julooke to fall back momentarily or else be hit. She did not lose her determination, however, so there was no chance of being scared off.

Without the encumbering limp he had harbored while his hip and leg had been healing from the tussle with the bear he was able to move without broadcasting to every prey within a ten mile vicinity of him that he was coming once more. His colossal size did not allow him stealth in it’s entirety but wolves were hunters by nature and moving as quietly as possible was an instinctual thing learned. Ragnar nodded once, firmly, when Julooke looked from him, to the specific deer she had her eye on. Words were unnecessary to communicate that he understood. For a few moments his icy Caribbean gaze zeroed in on their chosen deer. It walked with a limp as it straggled behind the bulk of the herd, it’s head bowed in a way that Ragnar might have considered graceful if he had ever taken the time to examine his prey as docile beauty and not as a meal. Alas, the Viking did not. Silently, he waited for his subordinate to take the lead, to initiate the hunt because it was hers first and foremost. Ragnar was simply the assistance.

Julooke stepped away and Ragnar mirrored her steps, going right, instead, so they may flank it. Granted, Ragnar’s size did not grant him speed but the Viking was like a tank. If he could grasp a hold of the deer he could, very likely, cripple it to make the kill easier. It had been his tactic when dealing with the bear and while three wolves stood no chance of taking an enraged bear (much to Ragnar’s dismay) Julooke and him could take this deer. The only thing they had to watch for was it’s kicks and hoping that the stag was overly protective of their weak link and came charging back, antlers bared. The birds let out shrill cries of warning, taking to the air. There was a heart beat of a moment when every thing seemed to freeze, the herd glanced up at them and then in another beat it was over and they were running, Julooke zooming off after them. A low curse in ancient Norse left the Viking’s lips as he launched himself after her. If he had known about the hunt sooner he could have sacrificed something to ensure it was successful, yet; this was a good chance for him to observe Julooke’s Gamekeeper skills that she had spoken about.

Ragnar pushed himself further, lips splitting into a ferocious sort of grin, a small little chuckle spilling forth at the thrill of the hunt that hummed through him as he caught up to Julooke, the strenuous contraction of muscles felt as he ran, the blood pounding through his body. It was a rapturous sort of feeling, to let feral instinct grab a hold of him and take over once more. Julooke fell back to dodge a kick the hindered deer aimed at her, Ragnar had caught it out the corner of his eye when his companion went for her uninjured leg. He propelled himself off of a felled log, paws slamming against the earth as he inhaled deeply through his open mouth and bared his teeth aiming for the doe’s injured leg, instead. Teeth snapped only air the first time, there was a frightened noise from their target. The Viking tried again teeth just skimming it, tearing what had began to scab open, the taste of it’s blood staining his teeth pink.

Aside from aiding in trying to get it down Ragnar did not intend to kill it: that honor would belong to Julooke; it was her hunt and she was trying to prove herself worthy of the Gamekeeper trade.

Julooke's side heaved with her breathes as she matched her gait with the deer's, her head just beside the back leg. As the deer ran and outstretched it, Julooke's jaws opened and grabbed onto it, shutting with a firm grip. She dug her paws into the earth and jerked her head hard, bringing the deer to a halt, though it continued to struggle. She confirmed Ragnar had a hold of their meal before she let the leg go, jumping quickly to the deer's head. She would not prolong this any more than she had to.

She jumped, aiming for the throat, her jaws latching on. The deer continued to kick and throw its head, but Julooke hung on, her agile body equipped to deal. She let her weight bear on the throat, and the deer threw its head back. It was a fatal mistake as her throat was torn open and blood came pouring out. Julooke lost hold and came down on her paws, but was quickly grabbing back on as the deer fell to her side. Just moments later, her life was over. Julooke sat back on her haunches, taking a moment to catch her breath. She looked over to Ragnar with a grin on her face, Thanks for helping, she said. I don't think I could have taken her down without you, she confessed. She would have done her best, but she knew before Ragnar showed up that the odds were against her.

Julooke was quick to recover from falling back to avoid the dangerous kick their prey had aimed at her, and though Ragnar did not spare the woman a glimpse — not daring to take his eyes off of their prize — he could sense her presence in the instinctual way that presences were usually sensed. Felt. Teeth snapped again at the injured leg of the creature, scraping again at the now open leg though he could have probably clamped down. It would have been unnecessary simply because in the next breadth of a moment Julooke had grasped it’s good leg and halted it long enough for Ragnar to counter. Ragnar was quick to grasp the struggling creature’s scruff. The grip might have appeared similar to how he would grasp his own childrens’ scruff but there was no gentleness to the Viking’s grip, teeth digging mercilessly into the skin, the clamp of his jaws refusing to relent. Ragnar hooked his paw and body weight onto the doe’s shoulders to attempt to hold it still as it writhed in his grip, it’s throws more violent when Julooke lunged for it’s throat before it still entirely the scent of life blood filling the man’s nostrils.

For a moment his grip held firm and true watching the crimson liquid spill freely before he released it in the next moment, moving back as it teetered and then fell with a sickly thump to the earth. A deep, heavy breath was taken and let out in several small pants, tongue smoothing across his lips, blood stained. “You are very efficient,” Ragnar offered Julooke as a compliment before he glimpsed down at the doe who was bleeding out of her throat, her body stiff in her death. She was efficient as far as Ragnar was concerned, but they had made a fairly good team, also. When wolves could work together without needing to speak was extremely useful, communications limited during the hunt to body language and eyes. Julooke had not prolonged the hunt longer than was necessary and this was a good trait to Ragnar who did not like to prolong things at all. It might have been because he was an assertive and blunt Savage but it was a quality he liked in others. Clean and simple. “Pump had spoken to me about having a pack hunt sometime, perhaps you could speak to her about leading it.” Ragnar had already informed their hybrid leader that he would not be partaking in the hunt, and still would not even though his hip and leg was all but healed. His reasons for not partaking had changed, thinking that maybe if Pump held off long enough to the point where the children did not need Thistle consistently for food that she could take his place in the hunt and he would stay and watch the children for a few hours.

“As I can speak for your skills personally,” The Viking offered her a rare, albeit small, genuine grin. “I do not see that being an problem.” Julooke continued to impress the Viking with her ambition and a small part of him considered eventually approaching her (and her partner, Verrine since they seemed to be a package deal and he, too, was working hard) to see if she would follow him when he eventually branched off from the Ridge. There was a chance, as with anyone, that she would decline and yet, Ragnar could be optimistic that maybe she wouldn’t. For now, Ragnar tucked that thought away, figuring there was no sense in speaking about it yet, he had no intentions of leaving Pump just yet; for now his children and wife remained his priority. Even Odinn could understand that.

Ragnar was quick to grab her scruff as she hung onto her back leg. Within the next few minutes, the doe was dead, bleeding out on the ground before them. Blood covered her muzzle and dripped from her tongue that hung out of her mouth, a smile on her face. Her tail thumped when Ragnar praised her. She had the feeling he didn't do that very often. She was quickly developing feelings for Ragnar. Not romantic, but she was beginning to see him as something akin to a father-figure. Julooke had been an adult when her parents passed, but she still missed them desperately. While she loved her mother dearly, it was her father who had raised her and taught her much of what she knew now. She had done her best to please him, and now she was doing her best for Ragnar. It was a little twisted in that way, but also in the fact that she looked more to Ragnar for direction, for leadership, than she did Pump. She respected Pump, just as every Alpha demands to be respected, but Julooke still went to Ragnar.

Her ears perked when he mentioned Pump and the possibility of Julooke leading a hunt. In addition, he could now personally attest to her abilities. She felt a sense of accomplishment that it seemed she had made him proud. If he had verbalized his plan of leading his own pack, Julooke would have been hard-pressed to say no. She wouldn't want to betray Pump, but the respect and admiration she had for Ragnar could not be ignored, either. Thank you, I'll talk to her about it, she responded. Then added, I appreciate you vouching for me. It was sort of her way of saying she valued his opinion. Generally, with someone she was close with, she would have just said her feelings outright. Lately, however, she's had difficulty expressing certain feelings. With Verrine, it was feelings of love. With Ragnar, it was feelings of admiration. She was scared because she sensed he was a very emotionally tough wolf, and she thought opening up like that this soon in their friendship could be damaging.

Having caught her breath, she looked down at the still body between them. Should we eat a little before taking it to the caches? Generally, with smaller prey, she would catch for the pack, or maybe for a certain wolf in the pack such as Thistle, and not eat any of it. However, this was a rather large catch and she thought they could eat some before dividing it up among the caches. However, Ragnar was obviously her superior, and what he said would prevail without problem, no matter her opinion.

Aww. I kind of love how Ragnar and Julooke are developing a platonic fondness for each other. It's cute. :D

It was hard not to feel a fondness for Julooke, even while it was strictly a platonic one; the fondness a leader felt towards his subordinate that proved to be as ambitious as himself when it came to proving worthiness. Often times, Ragnar was wary of ambition in others because he made judgments based off of himself, what he would do. There wasn’t much that Ragnar wouldn’t do — had killed his own brother for a woman whom Ragnar had only wanted because she was forbidden and once his interest and the thrill of the hunt faded he had discarded her for the next. The Viking’s ambition was a dangerous thing and yet it allowed him his freedom, it allowed him to hold steadfast to what he wanted, what he believed and remain unyielding in these posh Summer lands. He was not afraid to do what others would not, lacking the morality to tell him that something was ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. He was Pump’s enforcer, was sated by being her Second in Command because he had to be, for now, and he also respected her.

“Do not worry about it,” Ragnar dismissed with a twitch of his lips upwards. “You have proved you can organize and communicate directions well and you don’t play around. Hunts should be quick and simple.” The more they were prolonged, the more the wolves ran the risk of getting tired, as well. Exhaustion to Ragnar meant sloppy mistakes that could potentially be costly; and Ragnar did not want her obvious skills to go unnoticed by Pump because it was Pump’s approval she needed, in the end. Ragnar’s power was limited but he was devoted to his subordinates and would do what he could for them, even if it was not much. At her question he glimpsed, too, back down at the stiffened body of the doe. “I’m always hungry,” He grinned at her impishly, communicating that he was all for awarding them some of their prize. “I would take some to Thistle. It has been a while since I have given her venison,” Ragnar hadn’t spoken it as a command but as a question since the prize was Julooke’s and it was her decision on what they did with it, in the end; subtly as he did so expressing his respect for her without coming right out and saying it.

It is pretty adorable, Daddy! :-P

She reveled in his praise, her tail thumping the ground. Too many dangers add up the longer the hunt goes on, she said simply. The risk of exertion, injury, so on and so forth. Prolonged hunts were not kind to the wolves or their prey, and helped no one.

She realized he wasn't exactly stating the question about taking it to Thistle, but rather questioning it. Was he inquiring as to whether he should or whether or not Julooke thought Thistle would like it? I think she would like that, she said with a smile. Whichever question, she figured her answer fit either way. Her gaze moved to the plump, lifeless form of the deer, her tongue gliding over her lips. No need to wait any longer to dig in. She moved to position herself on the injured back leg, digging in to where the stomach met the thigh. No feathers to pluck, no scales to get through; just easy skin to rip open, and meat to sink her teeth into.

Fast forward a little, and Julooke's stomach was pleasantly filled, though not stuffed, and she was lying on her back, resting for a few moments. She knew they still had to drag the meat to the caches, and Ragnar had to take some to Thistle, but she hoped he wouldn't mind her be lazy for just a minute more. She remembered the days when she and Verrine would be lucky enough to catch a deer, and Julooke loved lazing about for a while afterwards. The feel of a full, fresh meal was always blissful. Thinking of Verrine... Julooke rolled upright, her gaze going to Ragnar. Hey, Ragnar, she began. How did you tell Thistle you loved her? Straight to the point, no beating around the bush. Her full stomach and easy-going attitude seen no issue with just going right into it. No way for Ragnar to get out of it, either, unless he simply flat out refused to tell her. In which case she might beg for the advice she was seeking.

;P

Ragnar might have been Julooke’s superior but he wasn’t a dictator nor a tyrant (that probably depended on who was asked) and he held no intentions of telling her what to do with her kill. In the end it was her prize and he would not take any more of it than she would allow him. For taking some of the venison to Thistle he wanted Julooke’s permission without actually coming out and asking for it because Ragnar didn’t ask for permission. At least, never out right. Ragnar took Julooke’s answer to imply that she didn’t mind Ragnar taking some to Thistle, later, and nodded firmly once. He eyed the small section he wanted for Thistle, almost wishing the children were old enough to consume regurgitated meats because there were so many delectable things he wished for them to try. In time, he knew, and time required a certain amount of patience.

He had joined his subordinate in dining on the catch, eating until he, too, was full, stretching out into a sphinx like position on the opposite side of the doe’s body. A yawn threatened to escape from the Viking but he bit it back and hid it to the best of his abilities. A contented silence followed for a bit as their stomachs settled from the meal, and Ragnar cleaned off his muzzle with his paw for a few seconds though the action would prove to be futile. His muzzle would only end up bloodied again when he tore of a hunk of meat to take to Thistle for dinner, later. It wasn’t that Ragnar minded being covered in blood or gore — it was something he had gotten used too a long time ago — but he felt pressed to clean himself up a bit when in the company of the fairer sex even if he was no longer out to impress or boast his physical prowess. Of course, the scars on the left side of his face had stolen the full force of the handsome creature he had once been, the unmarred right side of his face nothing more than a tease; old habits tended to die hard.

Julooke claimed his attention when she rolled upright, suddenly to the Viking, broaching her subject with his name, though the question she asked took the savage off guard. It wasn’t as if he ever expected it to come up and Ragnar, at that, did not understand what had inspired Julooke to ask about it, regardless. For a moment he stared at her, brow furrowed before he snorted at her with a shake of his head and smirked coyly at the woman before him. “What is this ást this …love you speak of?” The Viking teased her for a few seconds before his face morphed into a serious expression, not wanting her to think that because he had teased her he had not realized the importance of the question for her. “It wasn’t romantic, and well after we were mates,” Their mateship had not been founded on love and Ragnar wasn’t sure if Julooke had known that or not. “We were having a fight,” Of course Ragnar remembered it clearly. Thistle had been absolutely livid at him because of Dagrun, because of Sif’s pregnancy (which now he was relieved the children had not been his). It had been upon his return from Blacktail Deer Plateau and there hadn’t been a better time to pop the three tiny but significantly massive words that had brought the carnal Viking to his knees for one woman and one alone. “There was a lot of yelling back and forth. I had realized that I had been falling in love with her for some time and I had meant to tell her upon my return from my trip to the Plateau anyway. Just …not in the middle of a lovers’ yelling match. The circumstances that I said them did not make them any less true, though.” Just in case Julooke thought it was a heat of the moment matter. It had been but it hadn’t, either.

The love story of Ragnar and Thistle Cloud could scarcely be considered romantic but not all love stories could be the things of fairy-tales. It was what was realistic for the both of them. Not ideal to some but it worked.

Julooke listened, ears perked. It wasn't exactly the romantic story she had been hoping for, and there was one part that she needed a little more insight to. So, you two were mates before you exchanges I love you's? Her voice wasn't judging, simply curious. It made her wonder what exactly had gotten them together in the first place if it wasn't love, or if they realized they felt it and just hadn't needed to say until that point. Either way, it probably wasn't any of her business, and since she knew Ragnar was more the private type, she decided to open up to him on her situation.

Sooo, I like Verrine, she began, before correcting herself. No, I love Verrine. I just don't know how to tell him that. We've been such great friends, and I don't want to lose that. She had spoken to Thistle, who assured her that even if Verrine didn't feel the same way towards her, Julooke should be confident that he wasn't the type of wolf who would just abandon her because their feelings were different. She was hoping Ragnar could give her a male's point of view on the subject.

Ragnar could not hide his initial surprise that Julooke found the lack of romance in the story unexpected since he had assumed that Thistle had shared the story with Julooke. Either Thistle hadn’t told it right or this was the first time Julooke was hearing it. “That’s right,” Ragnar responded to her question. The woman’s voice had held no judgments but Ragnar understood that the normal mate-ship was based upon ‘love’ and not for convenience, attraction, ‘fondness’ or whatever had initially inspired Ragnar to ask Thistle to be his wife. He wasn’t sure what it had been underlining the jealousy of imagining Thistle with another man and while self interested jealousy had certainly played a big part that day it had not been the only force of power at work. It just so happened that for some far stretched reason Thistle had decided to accept his offer of mate-ship though at the time neither had loved the other. In fact, Ragnar was confident that she had still feared him a bit at that point. “I think some of it was responsibility,” He mused suddenly and then explained, “I was not the first to have Thistle in her heat season but there was a possibility that the children were of my seed and since her first lover had …taken advantage of her and left she deserved for someone to step up and claim the children.” It hadn’t been …nearly as heroic as he was probably making it sound. It had still been selfish of him and the fact that he had mated with her behind Pump’s back when she was in her heat cycle was apparently a ‘bad thing’.

Regardless of how rocky, or unorthodox the founding of their mate-ship had been no one could claim that the Loðbrók couple was not in love with one another, now.

The reason for Julooke’s question became abruptly apparent to the Viking with her following words: that she was in love with Verrine and that she did not know how to tell him. He waited until she was finished speaking, voicing her fears of losing his friendship on the chance that he didn’t feel the same way but that thought had not, and did not cross Ragnar’s mind. “When I came across the two of you on the borders I thought you were mates,” Ragnar confessed to her, fixing her in his piercing stare. “I think you are worrying about nothing. If I had to guess, from how he acts around you, that he feels the same way about you, Julooke.” Women tended to worry about silly things that men …didn’t. “Someone has to make the first move and confess their feelings outright. Sometimes there is no room for subtly. Sometimes you have to be brave and take the leap.” Then again, Ragnar was a very blunt creature who did not adhere to ‘beating around the bush’ very often. “You’ll never know unless you tell him how you feel.” Unless of course she came across the ability to mind read but since Ragnar did not see that happening any time soon he gave her the best advice he could: to be honest and open about her feelings.

Thistle hadn't delved into the story of her and Ragnar, so Julooke listened with ears perked. It hadn't been what Julooke was expecting. She frowned when he mentioned she had been taken advantage of. She couldn't fathom that... Her innocence just could not understand that those kind of things happened in this world. Instead of focusing on the bad, she focused on the good. Smiling to him, she said, You're going to be a really good Dad. She didn't think any wolf could claim children that had the chance of not being theirs and not be a good Dad to them.

Her brows shot up and she smiled, You really thought we were mates? she asked, wanting it confirmed even though he had already said it. She hadn't really realized Verrine and she acted like that, though they were very comfortable with each other. Ragnar went on say that someone needed to make the first move, or else it would never be mad. Her brows furrowed. She stood up and went to the deer that was between them, to get a better look at him. You're right! she said with conviction. If I can... She paused, looking at the carcass. Then, her two front legs hopped up on the partially eaten deer. If I can take on this deer, I can take on love! No big thing! Screw sitting around, being scared! I'm gonna go! I'm gonna go do it! she almost yelled. I'm going to tell Verrine I love him! With that, she turned, almost stomping off in the direction of their den. Then, she stopped, paused, turned around and stomped back to the carcass. After we've dealt with the meat.

Julooke’s frown told Ragnar that it hadn’t been what she had been expecting and Ragnar couldn’t help the soft chuckle that slipped from betwixt his lips. “I once told Thistle that I wouldn’t be her charming prince, and I’m not a knight dressed in white,” Ragnar wouldn’t have pinned himself as the villain either stealing the virtues of the young and innocent but he certainly wasn’t the hero of anyone’s fairy tale. “I am what I am. A Viking. A savage, a heathen I’ve been called too. For some reason she doesn’t seem to mind and returns my love.” It wasn’t a terribly romantic story but it was a love story in it’s own unorthodox way. At her declaration that he was going to be a good dad the man smiled softly at his subordinate. “I have had some practice. My eldest son might disagree with that,” Ragnar laughed once more but it had been a long time since he had last seen Týr and though the Viking worried for the boy’s welfare he trusted that Floki and him had taught him enough that he would endure and survive no matter what obstacles were in his way.

“I was surprised to find out that you were not mates, Julooke,” It was of the general assumption that if two wolves of the opposite sex on the borders were not siblings that they were mates. Of course, this wasn’t always true but the way the pair had interacted with each other on the borders had led Ragnar to his wrong assumption. He watched her as she moved closer and then used the carcass as a pedestal as she exclaimed that he was right, and that she was going to declare her love for Verrine. It was similar to the conviction in which Gavriil had marched away to declare his love for Pump (even though Ragnar had warned him not to be so blunt about mateship right off the bat with Pump). It was …interesting to see the way his words had an effect on the wolves of the Ridge, though Ragnar was not sure if it was his personality or the learned traits from his time as Jarl that was able to inspire such things out of them, even if it was something like their love life.

Either way he was honing his persuasive skills finely though he had not realized it up until this point. He only wished Julooke had more success that Gavriil though Ragnar did not think that would be a problem. Julooke’s situation was very different that Gavriil’s and Ragnar was confident that Julooke had a very good chance of succeeding than Gavriil did with Pump who did not strike him as the type of woman that wanted a mate or children.

Julooke had began to march off, mentioned something about going after they took care of the meat, earning a coy smirk from the Viking. “That is smart,” He commented with a teasing glint in his eyes. “I would have taken the meat for myself if you hadn’t returned.” He teased her. Of course he wasn’t serious, he would have divided the meat up for the caches and took what he wanted to Thistle without her but with her help it would go much faster for the both of them.

Julooke's eyes narrowed playfully, You know, that's the second time you've called yourself a heathen, but I have yet to see it, she said matter-of-factly, grinning. She just wasn't buying it. Sure, he was a tough Viking, but a heathen? Nope. Her eyebrows rose in surprise when he said he had other children, though she wasn't sure why she was caught off guard by it. How many children do you have? she asked. At this point, Julooke felt very comfortable with Ragnar, and didn't have much qualm about asking him whatever came to her mind. They both knew he could simply not answer if he wanted to.

She smiled when he stated he was surprised they were not mates already. Maybe Julooke and Verrine had fallen into a routine that was comfortable for them, so there hadn't been a reason, until now, to say anything more. But, it was beginning to drive Julooke crazy not knowing whether or not Verrine really wanted to be more. It was finally time to tell him. She found herself feeling a little more excited, and a little less scared.

And then she found herself feeling a little more stupid for almost forgetting she still had duties to perform before she went off and dealt with her love life. Ragnar didn't seemed put off by it, though, and even joked about it. Julooke snorted, Like I would believe you're selfish enough to take it all for yourself. For his family, maybe. But not just him. She grinned at him before lowering her head to one of legs, attempting to rip it from the rest of the body. It would take more trips to put the meat in the caches if it was ripped up, but it was still a lot easier than dragging the whole thing, minus what was going to Thistle.

Ragnar glimpsed at Julooke to see that her eyes were narrowed playfully at him when she spoke about him calling himself a ‘heathen’. For a moment he was silent in contemplation before he answered, “I have been called it many times,” He told her, honestly and while Ragnar left it at that he was pretty sure that she didn’t want to see just how cruel and savage he could be. It was easy to draw conclusions while Ragnar was being modest about his ways because he did not have the liberty to be entirely true to his culture. While he refused to change who and what he was, he restrained himself from things simply because he was not in charge. It seemed that Ragnar was well adept at surprising Julooke who had appeared to have been taken off guard by him speaking of his eldest son as she asked him how many children he had. “Just four that are living,” He shrugged. “The newborns and my eldest, Týr,” He hesitated for a fraction of a second before he spoke quietly. “My third wife …the one before Thistle aborted our litter. Three boys and a girl. If we’re counting the deceased, eight.” He did not often count the deceased. In fact he rather hoped to forget about that horrible night, his anger at Odinn, at Dagmar and how he had nearly attacked her out of his rage because he couldn’t attack the Allfather and she was the closest living thing to him. It wasn’t Ragnar’s proudest moment but it was hard to forget it when all during Thistle’s pregnancy he had been haunted by it relentlessly.

He laughed, glad for the conversation change, grasping at it eagerly when they went back to the doe. “You might be surprised,” Ragnar taunted her playfully as he aided her in ripping it apart in smaller pieces so they could easily move it. If Ragnar had been a loner and didn’t have a family and wolves to worry about he would have taken it all for himself but given that he wasn’t and did have a family and pack to make sure got fed he had no intentions of stealing it for himself.

I used the Icelandic translator for "puppies" and got hvolpar. Is it the word Ragnar would use? I'll change it if it isn't. I couldn't find one under the Old Norse vocab.

Ragnar admitted he had been called a heathen many times, and although she believed him, Julooke just didn't see him that way. Maybe it was because here, in this pack, he didn't have to do the things he did back home, and therefore she could see a gentler side of him. Or maybe she just refused to see anything other than his good side because she was beginning to see him as a father-figure. She had placed him on a pedestal and it seemed he could do no wrong. He confided that he had one more son other than his newborns, and that Thistle was his fourth wife. Her face was downcast when he said a litter had been aborted. Why? she asked softly. The question was out before she could stifle it. I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that, she quickly added. She was not interested in bringing up painful memories for him.

They ripped and tore at the carcass, making more manageable pieces to take to the caches and Thistle. When they had divided it, she looked to Ragnar, If you want to take yours to Thistle, I can take the rest of this to the caches. She partly felt it was part of her job, and partly figured some time with Thistle would do him good, especially after their difficult conversation earlier. With a smile, she added, Less than two weeks and we get to see the... hvolpar? The last word was a question, wondering if she had gotten the word correct.

Yep! Anything that isn't listed in the dictionary (and for most sentences) I tend to use the Icelandic translator for since it's basically the same language. :P

Julooke’s face took a sour turn when he admitted that Dagmar’s litter had been aborted. She did not hold back when she inquired as to why it had happened and then a beat later apologized and told him that he did not have to answer it. He knew he didn’t, and frankly, he couldn’t tell her why other than what Floki guessed what had been wrong. “I do not know the Gods took them from me,” Ragnar admitted. “Floki, the Healer of the Cove…said she was sterile.” Ragnar couldn’t say if Floki’s judgment was correct or not. He didn’t know but there was no use in trying to figure it out. He had dismissed Dagmar almost as instantly, glad to be rid of her, and was more focused on his life at present than in the past. The past was important, of course, but he had a wife and children now, here, and they needed his attention and thoughts. Not a past conquest who had failed him.

“If you are sure,” He told Julooke, willing to stay and assist her if she needed it. After a moment he ripped off a chunk for Thistle though and tucked it to the side so he would not forget it. Ragnar offered Julooke a soft smile when she asked about the puppies though she used the word in his native tongue though her tone brought about her slight trepidation. “Yes, very good.” He praised her. It was a start. Languages were not learned in a day, after all.

Okay, thanks! :-) Want to fade with your post?

Julooke couldn't express how sorry she felt for the loss of Ragnar's pups, but there was one upside. He's blessed you now, though, with three beautiful, healthy pups. She gave him a soft smile, hoping the thought of his current pups would cheer the mood up a bit.

She nodded, confirming that she was sure. Absolutely! I'm good with doing this, she said with a smile. It brightened when he confirmed she had used the correct word in his language. She had been trying hard to learn his culture, and along with it, the language. She knew the pups would know how to speak it, and it would be easier if she did, as well. With that, she went to his side and attempted to nose his shoulder a little forcefully, but in good nature. Now go on! I'm sure Thistle would love some fresh deer. She moved back to the deer and began to rip chunks off that she could carry to the caches.

Yep. Thanks for the thread! <3

Ragnar nodded as she spoke that the Gods had blessed him with three healthy children. That, they had. Just as they had blessed him with Sveinn. They were not his by blood, any of them, but they were still his children all the same and in a way a jump in the right direction of the prophecy the Cove’s Seer had told him: that he would have many sons. She seemed eager to shoo him away and Ragnar smiled at her, snorting softly to himself, muttering to himself jokingly about her eagerness to be rid of him in his native tongue before he grasped the chunk of deer meat he had pulled off of their catch for Thistle in his jaws and offered Julooke a farewell and good luck (on admitting her love to Verrine) chuff, despite that it was muffled by his mouthful, before he turned and loped in the direction of the birthing den.