It ain't good enough to try and not succeed

Pump counted four sea lions playing in the water disappearing form her sight, when they dove underwater and then coming back suddenly in the view by resurfacing in entirely different location. The wolf-dog rarely let anything divert her attention from the things that needed to be done, not knowing the concept of fun or idle daydreaming, yet she allowed herself to have this brief moment of joy. Job could wait a bit.

She noticed Ragnar approaching from another side of the beach. He had got wounded in their mission to drive the bear out, but, even though he was limping, it didn't seem to have affected him in the least. Never leaving his duties, as if he thought that none of the other members here could do them as good as he did. For a brief moment a concerned look laced Pump's expression, but she brushed it away quickly, for she knew that Thistle was probably taking a good care of him already much to the dislike of the white beast.

"Ragnar," she returned his greeting and climbed down the rock to finish the ritual by having a good sniff of his muzzle, ears and the rest of the body. "Not a few days have passed and you are on your feet again," she continued for the lack of anything better to say.