It had been a hard thing to say for Ragnar, to tell Pump that he intended to sit out the hunt and let the other take his place during it; even so it had been the right choice. His wounds would not be healed by the time she decided to take action on the herd and he would either harm himself further by tearing at the wounds, or cost the pack their victory because of his temporary slowness. Besides that it wasn’t really fair, the Viking considered, that Thistle had to sit everything out alone. It would be easier, also, to keep his newborn sons safe when he was lingering close by. Ragnar had half expected Pump to comment on his decision though it had been made and would not be swayed, though the silver Viking appreciated the lack thereof, nevertheless.
His head lowered them to sniff at the breeze that blew around his paws, black, leathery nostrils working to inhale and analyze the scents it carried. Once he was satisfied there was nothing unusual upon it he glimpsed back up at Pump, tail brushing against his hind legs, sweeping near the paste Thistle had smoothed on it, as he listened to Pump’s following words about forgiveness for those who did not join in the bear chase. It had been a pathetic display of the pack’s supposed might and though Pump was easy to forgive, Ragnar was not. “Why are they forgiven?” Ragnar asked, remembering the conditions of which she had promoted him to her Second in Command upon. He wasn’t supposed to hold back and thus the Viking had no intentions of it now. “It was threatening our livelihood, our lives and they couldn’t be bothered to aid us? If they had we could have killed it and eaten like Kings for a month!” If Ragnar had still been in the Cove, still the reigning Jarl of it and something like that had happened he would have brought each one in for questioning and decided punishment for their apathy based upon what they told him.
This was not Odinn's Cove, and Ragnar was only the Second In Command and he could only tell Pump his opinion on the matter.
“What if that had been another pack, hmm? That came in to raid us? They would have made off with all of our food, and maybe killed one or two of us and then what? Would they be so easily forgiven because of fear? We might be strong in numbers but that was a humiliating show of how weak we are. Numbers do not equal strength. Unity is strength. I led a team of seven Berserkers and we were able to raid, kill and take prisoners with minimal injuries. Occasionally a casualty but not many.” Of course, his culture was starkly different and he was a man made for combat. Born battle ready. Or, if the whispers of those packs were to believed they were nothing more then demons. Devils. “I do not think they should just be forgiven.” He concluded with a coy smirk in his hybrid leader’s direction. Ragnar realized and understood in the end it was her decision to make and that when she made it final to him he had no choice but to accept it. All he could do was speak his mind about it, even if it was in disagreement with her opinion, and wait for her ultimatum.
The conversation took a twist then, surprisingly, to Nerian. He looked at Pump and then to the trees of Ravensblood in the distance, where he could swear he heard the whispers of Odinn, summoning into the forest’s depths. Summoning him home, but Ragnar had turned, however briefly it was to be, away from his ambition in that respect, putting his family before his own desires. He had a wife, had children to think about now and it was not as simple as it had once been. He sighed heavily and then, gradually fixed his eyes back on Pump. “I know the Priestess, yes,” He spoke, conforming what she had likely already gathered. “She says she can track weather patterns,” Which had never made any sense to Ragnar because Thor created storms. How could she predict Thor’s mood? No one could predict Thor’s mood especially because it was known for being rather fickle. “and cycles of the moon. It is supposed to be helpful for hunts, and breeding or something.” Since the role of ‘naturalist’ clashed and contradicted his religion greatly Ragnar was privy to believing it was a bunch of crap, but she believed she could do it and who was he to tell her otherwise? “Apparently it is useful.” And then the harshness of his face softened, if only in a small measure. “She is loyal and will do anything you ask of her, besides.” He could witness to the fact that she was loyal to almost a fault if it ever came up to question. How many times had he told her she could leave — even when Sif had let Nerian leave the Cove — she had came right back to Ragnar like a shadow.
