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Ragnar had found that his days seemed to follow a pattern, similar to the day previous and predictable to the day after. Routines were easy. He had followed a strict routine during his time as lead Berserker and further during his time as Jarl. These patterns were repeated here, most of his day spent away from his wife who he swore looked more pregnant day by day. Though he was a Warden by heart and blood - a much more relaxed position than being a Berserker had been, admittedly - but Pump had told him to focus his time and attentions upon taking care of Thistle and their babes. With that order (though it had been unnecessary he was going to do it anyway) he quit his patrol quite early and slipped into the grasping shadows of Ravenblood Forest having caught the sounds of their terrorizing neighbor (the grizzly bear) tearing apart some kind of lesser creature earlier when he had passed and cautiously approached the carcass, every nerve in his body alert to fight or flight should the bear come charging out of the shadows. It seemed safe enough Ragnar deduced as he stared at the deer’s torn and broken body. The Viking sniffed at it cautiously before he began to gnaw at it’s hind leg figuring he would bring the surprise to Thistle who deserved the finest of meals since lately all he had been able to bring her had been quails, squirrels and rabbits - pheasant food. She should eat like the Queen she was to him.
After working it loose and finally tearing the haunch free after an hour or so, Ragnar grasped his prize in his jaws and carried it back into Horizon Ridge’s territory, blood dripping off of the severed leg as he headed to the birthing den that he now shared with Thistle. It was kind of an awkward thing, yet the Viking kept a firm grasp upon it as he neared the mouth of the den and dropped it ungracefully at his paws, blood splashing up upon his chest and face from the impact. He blinked but made no move to clean it off. She would have to get used to him being covered in gore soon enough, anyway.