Julooke was quick to recover from falling back to avoid the dangerous kick their prey had aimed at her, and though Ragnar did not spare the woman a glimpse — not daring to take his eyes off of their prize — he could sense her presence in the instinctual way that presences were usually sensed. Felt. Teeth snapped again at the injured leg of the creature, scraping again at the now open leg though he could have probably clamped down. It would have been unnecessary simply because in the next breadth of a moment Julooke had grasped it’s good leg and halted it long enough for Ragnar to counter. Ragnar was quick to grasp the struggling creature’s scruff. The grip might have appeared similar to how he would grasp his own childrens’ scruff but there was no gentleness to the Viking’s grip, teeth digging mercilessly into the skin, the clamp of his jaws refusing to relent. Ragnar hooked his paw and body weight onto the doe’s shoulders to attempt to hold it still as it writhed in his grip, it’s throws more violent when Julooke lunged for it’s throat before it still entirely the scent of life blood filling the man’s nostrils.
For a moment his grip held firm and true watching the crimson liquid spill freely before he released it in the next moment, moving back as it teetered and then fell with a sickly thump to the earth. A deep, heavy breath was taken and let out in several small pants, tongue smoothing across his lips, blood stained. “You are very efficient,” Ragnar offered Julooke as a compliment before he glimpsed down at the doe who was bleeding out of her throat, her body stiff in her death. She was efficient as far as Ragnar was concerned, but they had made a fairly good team, also. When wolves could work together without needing to speak was extremely useful, communications limited during the hunt to body language and eyes. Julooke had not prolonged the hunt longer than was necessary and this was a good trait to Ragnar who did not like to prolong things at all. It might have been because he was an assertive and blunt Savage but it was a quality he liked in others. Clean and simple. “Pump had spoken to me about having a pack hunt sometime, perhaps you could speak to her about leading it.” Ragnar had already informed their hybrid leader that he would not be partaking in the hunt, and still would not even though his hip and leg was all but healed. His reasons for not partaking had changed, thinking that maybe if Pump held off long enough to the point where the children did not need Thistle consistently for food that she could take his place in the hunt and he would stay and watch the children for a few hours.
“As I can speak for your skills personally,” The Viking offered her a rare, albeit small, genuine grin. “I do not see that being an problem.” Julooke continued to impress the Viking with her ambition and a small part of him considered eventually approaching her (and her partner, Verrine since they seemed to be a package deal and he, too, was working hard) to see if she would follow him when he eventually branched off from the Ridge. There was a chance, as with anyone, that she would decline and yet, Ragnar could be optimistic that maybe she wouldn’t. For now, Ragnar tucked that thought away, figuring there was no sense in speaking about it yet, he had no intentions of leaving Pump just yet; for now his children and wife remained his priority. Even Odinn could understand that.
