She brushed off his subtle correction — if indeed anything could be considered subtle with the Viking — and had equally as he brushed off his own wounds, listened as she brushed off her back. Likely, she had not gotten as injured as he but even then Ragnar hardly considered his wounds to be anything more than scratches. He listened patiently, thoughtfully when Pump declared that there would be a hunt. His eyes, a shining Caribbean blue followed the direction of her muzzle of where she had supposedly seen the herd and nodded gravely when she spoke that they had the sea and their numbers working to their greater advantage. “I will be sitting this hunt out,” He spoke, then, breaking his silence upon the matter which had lingered until he felt sure she had finished speaking. Not just because of his wounds but also because of his children which would probably maybe be born by that time. Besides those two facts he was — while perfectly capable of hunting — no Gameskeeper. “The herd should be less frightening than the bear,” Ragnar spoke making reference to the fact that he, too, had noticed the lack of their pack members that had not at all came to aid them in driving out the bear. “Though they should be more frightened of me than of any old bear.” He wasn’t happy that most of them had ignored Pump’s call — a call to arms to protect what was theirs and to protect their land.
“Maybe one of the aspiring Gamekeepers can take the lead on the hunt. It will give them experience if nothing else.” Ragnar suggested quietly to his hybrid co-leader, glimpsing down at her as his words filled the void of silence he had previously left.
