As was Ragnar’s usual routine when he was finished with his patrols he headed back towards the birthing den, this time with a rabbit clutched in his jaws. The creature was plump, it’s fur soft and slate grey and earth brown, matted with Ragnar’s saliva where the Viking drooled around it, ignoring the instinct to tear into it’s delicate flesh and consume it despite that he wasn’t hungry and had eaten an hour previous. He carried it to his wife though whether she chose to eat it for herself or eat it for the children he didn’t know and thusly, had no intentions of asking. He was later than he normally was, if because he stopped to check in on Hati and Sköll each in turn, whom he suspected were not aware of the other’s presence in the pack. Or maybe they were and he simply hadn’t gotten time to inquire further about it. While Ragnar desired for the two to learn of each other’s presence, preferably so they didn’t needlessly continue to worry about one another when their concerns were needed elsewhere, he also desired, when Hati was a bit more recovered from her journey, for his little sister to meet his wife. He had been contemplating on and off if the Gods would be angry if he allowed her to meet his children early, seeing that she was immediate family. Presently, Ragnar had no answer and had prayed to Odinn for some sort of omen either way before he made the introductions.
His eyes took in Thistle’s stretching form as he slowed his pace upon his approach to the birthing den, pausing to appreciate the moment before he let out a muffled noise around the rabbit and padded closer dropping it to the ground at his paws with a disgraceful splat. He nudged it towards her with his nose before he drew back and studied her face as he settled upon his haunches, knowing that he had much to tell her; lest she get the wrong impression of Hati and jump to wild (and incestuous) conclusions. She had a penchant for jealousy Ragnar had quickly learned.