Ragnar watched as Thistle emerged from the shadows, watching the awkward - at least that was how it looked to him - way in which she walked, carrying the weight of their children in her womb. Ragnar wondered, as he had several times already, how many she was carrying, he wanted to guess quite a few given her size but then again he was reminded that his wife was small and that likely even a single pup would probably make her womb appear to be large even so. Ragnar didn’t really care how many babes they had, only that they and Thistle were healthy and strong during the whole process - from their time in the womb to their birthing. He realized when he felt her touch against his shoulder, the brush of her muzzle against the platinum silver fur that grew there that he had probably awoken her. Most of the time he did for she seemed to be napping frequently, which Ragnar felt unsure if was a good thing or a bad thing - Dagmar’s pregnancy had never progressed this far and he had nothing else to go off of.
“I will not keep you long,” The Viking promised her pulling back from her slightly only so he could look her in the eyes. “A female from the Plateau came to our borders looking for Crete, she must have followed your scent mixed with his here,” He spoke in a lowered voice, nearly a whisper as if he were afraid of someone overhearing him. “I told her all that happened. I lied a bit by telling her that you were my mate when he had you,” He admitted to her bluntly, not really feeling remorseful for stretching the truth. It was his story and he had to stick with it now. “I must go with her to the Plateau. To tell his family of what he has done and …that the babes might be his by blood,” He took a deep breath. “But that they will know, even so, no father but me.” In a way, Ragnar was limiting Crete’s family to rights to them (which probably wouldn’t go over well with them but he didn’t care, frankly).
"I expect to be gone only a few days." He told her, expecting her to jump in and tell him that she was going with him.
