The majority of the situation had Ragnar annoyed, territorial and even in some cases, though it was hardly the fault of any of the Ridge’s wolves, standoffish; the latter being more of a product that he felt that Pump wasn’t taking the threat of the Isle wolves as seriously as she should have been — just another one of the things they uselessly butted heads on. Ragnar might have been on Pump’s opposing side, vying their hybrid leader to contain the problem before it became a bigger problem but he was, inherently, powerless. Her decision was law as the Alpha and he, the mere Beta felt like he had no more pull than the Nu rank. If there was one thing Ragnar hated it was feeling utterly powerless. The Viking couldn’t help but feel that ‘innocent until proven guilty’ or ‘peaceful until proven hostile’ only worked with inter pack relations and stood no where with an enemy pack. Ragnar didn’t care if other packs starved or thrived, had never cared about the welfare of any wolves other than his own. The savage had already decided his children would never go hungry that the length of measures he would go to to make sure their bellies were full would be horrific (or at very least immoral). If he had to give his children the entrails of the Isle wolves so they had food then Ragnar would.
Ragnar had not been born to be a monarch’s lap dog; he would not sit idly by as their prey diminished because the Isle wolves needed to eat too. No, as far as Ragnar was concerned they didn’t. They could all starve to death on their little Isle and he would not mourn for a single one.
If they were in a more prime location he might have considered raiding them in secret but he doubted they had any sort of food to offer him and his and so for now, that option was off the underground table.
The sound of his name broke him abruptly out of his vicious thoughts, dispelling each savage notion to a tucked away corner of his mind as he refocused, pausing in his steps, the rush of the oncoming wave cool as it splashed up his legs and licked at the fur of his stomach. Verrine, Ragnar saw, approached with a smile. A coy smirk was Ragnar’s response to it though it was affable all the same.