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It had been at least half of a day after he had discovered …or rather thought he had discovered a new pack located on the isle; though he couldn’t be sure that was what had happened. It wasn’t as if they had been made aware as extremely close neighbors or anything and if, indeed, the annoying (or so Ragnar felt) earthen creature had managed to round a few followers and claim it without even informing the Ridge that they planned to take a territory so close well then he was more lack witted than Ragnar had plagued him to be the day in Ravensblood. As it was the scarred Warden stared out at the isle from the shore, hating the lack of real distance between the isle and the ridge. It was just a small strip of ocean and realistically could be swam easily. Torn, he bared his teeth and let out a low grumble of discontent wanting to inform the pack via a howl but not wanting to rise an alarm if it ended up to be nothing more than casual traversing — though Ragnar doubted it even as he thought it. He had been around enough forming packs, raiding, to know that loners did not converge like that unless they were staking a claim.
A deep breath was taken, the salty scent of the ocean filling his lungs as the brine kissed at his face, giving a sticky feeling to his fur as he shifted his weight, sand wedging between his toes before he snorted and turned away sharply, heading back to the den where Thistle was with their newborn children. He intended to track down Verrine and see if the male wished to join him on the journey to the isle, figuring it would work to both of their advantage since Verrine had some scouting experience and he had expressed an equal interest in the Outrider trade, but first he wanted to speak to Thistle. Perhaps his wife should not have been the first woman he confided into considering that Pump was his Alpha but as it was Ragnar didn’t want to bring it up to Pump until he knew for sure and his mind had already been made that he would approach to find out what was going on — though he was suspicious and suspecting enough.
Perhaps, Ragnar realized, he was letting his heightened territorial instincts make a mountain out of an ant hill.
As he neared the den his pace slowed, black, leathery nostrils flaring to inhale the scent of @Thistle Cloud and the newborn pups. He paused outside of it, listening for signs that the children were awake or feeding because he knew if they were he might have to wait until Thistle could steal a few moments to relieve herself figuring that was as good a time as any to speak with her. It wasn’t ideal to confess his anger and suspicion when she was attempting to use the bathroom but it was better than not talking to her at all; besides he wasn’t sure how long this trip would take, or what would happen when he did go. It was an uncertain world, despite that Ragnar felt confident if they were a pack it wasn’t very big. He scented only three other scents along with Majesty’s.