Horizon Ridge My love's feral and wild and free

Ragnar had considered the ease of his married life if he hadn’t been so honest with Thistle about his past, how he had a bit of a reputation — that obviously still preceded him — back in the Cove as a libertine; and while they had not been mates when he had spoken to her of those things he had never deigned to lie to her. Ragnar did not, usually, lie. He liked to be enigmatic and clever and sometimes as deceptive as needed but he did not fancy himself a liar. With Thistle having already been out of the den upon his approach it eliminated the time he had to wait for her to move away from the children and exit it. For a moment, the Viking was contented to watch her begin to dig into the prize he had brought her. It wasn’t much but it was what he had found and, for the moment, would have to suffice until he got an extended moment of free time in which he could hunt something bigger, something a little bit more substantial for her.

She did not draw near him to touch him, which, instantly, made the Viking moderately suspicious and his brow furrowed as she inquired as to what he had to tell her using her favored endearment for him. The Northman frowned and deigned to close the distance, brushing his muzzle against hers leaving a small trail of tantalizing kisses along her bottom jaw in greeting, tasting the few droplets of blood she had yet to clean off of her muzzle before he pulled back giving her space to enjoy the small meal he brought her. There. That was better. “The rendezvous den is complete. I’ve been working on it here and there when I could. I did not tell you before because I wanted it to be a surprise,” But now, there was something that pressured him to tell her, some sort of razor edgeness. Perhaps it was just because the birthing den was beginning to feel claustrophobic with the five of them occupying it.

“Also, do you remember Floki?” Ragnar inquired and then paused and corrected with: “What I’ve said of him?” It was hard to remember that Thistle hadn’t been apart of his life that far back though it felt as if she had been with him forever (which was not a bad feeling, mind). “I found his son, Sköll and recruited him into the Ridge …from the Isle wolves. I do not know how the poor boy got in with them when he cannot speak much of the common tongue.” What he did know (as Ragnar had tried to be his teacher) was probably enough to only keep him from being killed on the spot. “And my sister…my half sister through my mother’s second mateship found her way to our doorstep. Looking for me. I would like you to meet them both.” Because it was important to him. Ragnar could only hope that Hati and Thistle got along better than Nerian and Thistle did.