Ravensblood Forest [m] let the rapture tear them away

I'm trying to prolong this and keep what he really wants to do at bay but it's proving to be hard, lol.

Ragnar heard Thistle sigh once more and contemplated with a small smirk that she was likely not all that thrilled to be in his presence once more. It was true that he had seen and knew her the most out of all his other pack mates - not including Pump who he saw on a regular and daily basis at the borders, or intercepting loners, or whatever. At first, their time together had been only because she was the only healer and he and his infected wound had needed her expertise. Ragnar was not aware of it but if she had not been there he likely might have died from the infection and severity of the wound that had cut to the bone. He was reminded of it now, of the rudimentary wrappings Thistle had dressed it in, the fur hot and itchy beneath the webbings and leaves. For the sake of avoiding her ire on the subject he did his best to simply ignore it. She was fierce when she needed to be, and it seemed especially when it came to rowdy, disobedient patients such as himself. Admittedly, Ragnar had never been very good with being patient in regards to healing wounds as Floki, would he have been there, would have gleefully told her.

For a moment Ragnar contemplated telling her that he had hoped to avoid her by staying the night in the Forest, away from the lure of her sexually receptive body that was, possibly quite literally, driving him insane but decided against it thinking that it might hurt her feelings. “This forest is scared to Odinn, I come here often,” He settled for the second best truth, instead. Or, rather, what he knew to be the truth (or stubbornly believed was the truth, whichever). He moved them, the bear like Viking having managed to ghost slightly to his left, though his Caribbean blue eyes were focused instead of her upon a dark circling shapes above them. “Look,” Ragnar whispered to her then, gesturing with his muzzle, not wanting to spook either of the bird. “Huginn and Muinnin.” Ragnar introduced Odinn’s ravens to her with breathless reverence before he looked back down at her, his smile fading at the sad undercurrent of her tone when she spoke that she had been a passing moment to the Plateau wolf.

For a moment Ragnar was silent as he stared at her, not really sure he had any business speaking on the matter because it didn’t really concern him and technically he could have been considered just as bad if not worse than Crete which didn’t leave the Viking with much of a leg to stand upon. “Then he is a fool,” Ragnar deduced his soft, heavily accented voice breaking the silence he had created between them before he glimpsed back up at the ravens, wondering what their semblance was here, in this moment, with her.