Ragnar nodded to Julooke when she admitted that her experience was in dealing with the children themselves instead of giving birth. All of his, admittedly desperate, attempts to find Thistle a midwife had ended in vain. He would just have to hope that her body and instincts knew what to do and trust that they did. “It will be good for her and the Ridge if you would allow her to teach you to have another Healer among us. She is relied upon too heavily and sometimes stretched to thin, something they will not be able to do once our children are born.” Ragnar’s personal thoughts regarding that were rather cruel and heartless — he was cruel, period — but their children, squealing newborns were going to be Thistle’s first priority for quite some time and if anyone thought Ragnar would let them near his children until he had performed the rite of child birth on them so they were protected they were absolutely silly. If he would make exceptions he had yet to be aware of, though currently it stood that he would not.
Ragnar’s attention had been turned onto Verrine when the other man admitted that he wasn’t sure what an Outrider was. “It is more or less a scout; it also doubles as a pack ambassador if needed.” In a way it was kind of like a Scout and a Peacekeeper combined. Of course Odinn’s Cove had never had anything even remotely similar to a ‘peacekeeper’ and the Jarl himself (or Earl if it was a female who led) had handled everything ‘diplomatic’. Then again, the Cove was constantly upheavling their neighbors by raiding them every winter. There had been no sense in having a ‘peacekeeper’ because the Jarl handled disputes among the members personally, and there was never to be any peace between them and other packs.
Ragnar listened as Julooke explained that they had lived here for a short time before but upon returning to their home had found that their pack had disbanded. It was a harsh thing to go home too, Ragnar admitted to himself, but that was the way of the world. Harsh. Fluid. Things were constantly shifting and changing. It was probably why the Cove was wiltering and crumbling to ruins under Váli’s rule because he was a change and the Cove had never taken change well sticking to their barbaric ways of life through many, many generations. He was silent, having nothing to really offer her because Ragnar did not offer condolences and even if he did they would only be hollow; there was nothing worse than hollow words to the Viking.
Attention was given back to Verrine when the male inquired about alliances and enemies, about the size of the pack. “We are twelve, including you two, Pump and myself, strong,” Ragnar informed Verrine easily. He did not count his unborn children because even if they had been born they wouldn’t count towards the pack total until they were at least a year of age. “We have grown in the last few months,” Nothing like the little five band they had been after the landslide. “Nearly doubled in size, actually,” They were strong in numbers but horrendously off track of one another if the lack of attendance with the bear situation was testament to anything. It had been pathetic. If more had answered Pump’s call they could have killed it and ended it once and for all.
Ragnar tucked his displeasure away about that though, saving it for another time, for other wolves. Julooke and Verrine did not need to suffer his ire because they had nothing to do with it. “I cannot speak for enemies and if we have any I am not aware of it, but we do not harbor any alliances,” Pump shared in that with Ragnar. “We have kept to ourselves mostly. For a long while as we dealt with the aftermath of the landslide we had too.” They had been weak, exposed, vulnerable. Everything Ragnar hated to be.
