It was kind of an ironic thing, having his wife, an newcomer to the Viking culture defend his home to him, a generation born Viking through and through. It was only because of Nerian’s influence and her endless questions that picked apart the very bones of his culture that Ragnar was left wondering, or maybe it was bound to happen anyway - these questions. He sought knowledge like it was life. Understanding (or trying to at least) a culture different than his was another form of acquiring knowledge. “I have lived the culture of these wolves,-” Meaning Horizon Ridge, “-for too long. Pump did not seem against the idea of raids but if we are still here come fall I will approach her again with the suggestion.” In the meantime, Ragnar wondered if he could potentially train those who would raid with him - would these wolves even do it? Invade a neighboring pack, steal food and then leave? Ragnar didn’t know. Where as he saw it as a challenge, to the point where it was fun but also necessary there was the potential that the others would say it was disgraceful.
It wasn’t like the pack had any friendships they had to worry about breaking.
His attention focused back on Thistle then, trying to erase the frown that had seized his lips when she confirmed that she just wanted squirrel and that she wasn’t very hungry. Eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her again, having no idea if it was something to worry about or not. The silver Viking hesitated then, detaching himself from her side. “Ok, ok, fine,” He gave in despite that he was reluctant to do so. “I will get you squirrel,” The Beta leveled a meaningful stare at her then. “You will tell me if something feels wrong, yes?” Ragnar asked her, his nerves suddenly feeling like they were on edge. The sooner the children were out of her womb, the better for him, he thought, because he had spent way too much time wondering though it was useless because no one around here had any idea about childbirth.
