A place to call home (border acceptance)

Ragnar was tense as he paced the length of borders cautiously, like a jaguar high up in a tree as it stalked it’s prey below. The call had risen from some place yet there was nothing in his sight, and for a moment Ragnar played with the possibility that it had been a trick, that they were about to be ambushed; and that if that remained the case that they would be overtaken in a heart beat. The taunt tension did not leave Ragnar even when Pump joined the scene and moved past him sniffing for the caller. Pacing ceased, irises of ice watching Pump then, prepared to rush forwards and protect her if someone came attacking. A rumble of growls vibrated in the Viking’s chest when the wolf - likely the one who had summoned them, came crawling forth into their view. Her posture was adequately submissive but Ragnar did not relent. The stranger spoke of peace, spoke that she was in search of a ‘safe haven’ - of a home.

Yet, Ragnar had mistaken her disappearance - wherever it had been that she had gone after she had called for them - as impatience. He glimpsed at Pump for a moment as he neared his Alpha, scarred and unscarred ears slicking back to his skull, lip curling back to expose his teeth as a last growl rumbled in his chest. “I find your lack of patience wanting, stranger.” The Viking spoke to her, his tone as soft as it always was but hardened by his initial distrust.