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Ragnar was always up early patrolling; and if he wasn’t to be found on the borders he could be found hunting for Thistle and the children since they had began to start eating regurgitated meat now. He did not catch them much because he suspected they still, largely, survived off of Thistle’s milk. It wasn’t that the whole regurgitation thing grossed him out — he was a warrior after all he had torn apart his enemies from their bellies to their throats — but Ragnar didn’t stick around for the processes of it, regardless. Mostly, he didn’t stick around for many of the meal times, dropping what he caught and departing to go take care of something else that required his attention.
It wasn’t entirely uncommon for Ragnar to come across Pump on his patrols, or in general, considering he was her co-leader and they needed to interact with one another on a daily basis but for some reason or another it came as a surprise to the Viking to have stumbled across his hybrid Alpha whom appeared to be dining on grass. He slowed his pace as she became more clear in the distance, a glimpse over his shoulder towards the direction of the Isle given before he ascertained that Verrine or Gavriil would be watching and accordingly continued in Pump’s direction. Tail swayed against his hind legs as he neared her, understanding that their opinions on the Isle problem differed greatly — as they seemed to do most days — but Ragnar was forced to retreat against what every nerve in his body told him for the simple fact that she was his superior and until that changed he couldn’t do anything about it.
Realizing that he didn’t want to have an argument against her about it he carefully tucked those thoughts away. She already knew where he stood on the matter and Ragnar could do no more.