i dreamt you fed me blood pudding

Thistle had no illusions where her husband was concerned. She knew him to be savage and feral and wild. She also knew he did not have much of what most would call good inside him. It could be called good merely for the fact that he followed a moral compass. Even though it was not necessarily good it was moral and that was the difference between him and others. He may not be a good man but he was a moral one even if that morality was his own make. Thistle did not expect him to soothe her especially since he was still rather cranky from his own dream, she was merely stating that she was nervous. If it came down to fight or flight, Thistle was not sure if she could fight Pump merely because one she would not be physically able too especially if they left so soon after the pumps were born and secondly because she was not a fighter she was a healer, but she would do her best if it came down to the grind.

Thistle looked up at him and snorted I can certainly growl if I want too Ragnar thank you very much. She moved into his touch and briefly allowed the thought to cross her mind that she was becoming very dependent on that touch and she did not know if that was a good thing or not, but she was not about to look to deeply into that preferring to be one who looked not to the future but the present.

She shook her head at his coy smile and gave a sharp nip to his shoulder blade in retaliation. Don't let it go to your head. she teased gently. She snorted again and shook her head but she lay back to her paws anyway. good night Ragnar. And she too fell asleep.