<style type="text/css"> r1 {color:#5e6d7c; font-size: 10px;} .r1box {background-color: #0b0c14; width: 500px; margin: auto; background-image: url('http://i.imgur.com/TdbsUHq.png'); background-repeat: no-repeat; border: 1px solid #4b4e55; outline: 10px solid #1f2633;} .r1text {margin: auto; width: 350px; color:#313d4a; text-indent: 15px; font-family: georgia; line-height: 15px; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; padding-left: 20px; padding-right: 20px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 420px; margin-bottom: 30px;}</style>
Ragnar had recently picked back up on his patrol after relieving Thistle the duty of watching their infant children, now granted with the sense of sight that both parents suspected was yet very poor for a half of an hour as he did through out the day allowing his wife to stretch her legs, relieve herself and keep the children pacified and watched over. Ragnar had long ascertained it wasn’t fair that his wife was home stuck while he was out taking care of his duties as Head Warden and Beta male as well as pursuing the other Trades he had his eye on. His young wife was a new mother, however, and Ragnar also while agreed it wasn’t fair petitioned that it was her duty. The children needed constant surveillance and near constant access to their only food source currently: Thistle’s milk. Ragnar helped her where he could, sharing half of the burden of the infants with her as he saw was only fair. He was their father and he was adamant about not letting them be seen or around anyone else until he had performed the Rite of Birth a month from their birthing.
While the Viking did not mind sharing parental duties with his wife he did not like being cooped up inside the den for long periods of time and admired his tiny Viking all the more for her patience and ability to keep sane; especially so given the children were not old enough to be outside the den yet even with close parental guidance. With the stretch of open sky and scent markers before him he went about the patrol as he usually did, with vigilance and contemplation. Surely, he was recovering grounds that Verrine, Gavriil, or Pump had already covered but with the birth of his children his territorial instincts had only heightened henceforth making them insufferably worse than they had already been to begin with. As if his problem with the claiming of the Isle a short ways off wasn’t a major indication of how territorial the feral man could truly be.
It became apparent to Ragnar in an abrupt manner that had him lunging towards to origin of the loner’s scent that assaulted him, that Wheeling Gull Isle was not his only problem and in hindsight not to more pressing one he had to face.
It did not take the platinum silver, scarred Beta long to come across the dark loner, hackles bristled and teeth bared, a low warning growl rumbling in his chest.