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Ragnar knew that Northstar Vale had been abandoned it’s pack left for ruin when he had spoken a month or so ago to Avyo whom he had effectively recruited into his branch off pack …if and when it ever saw fruition. Every time he strove to finally take the leap and branch off he was pulled back to the Ridge, by his wife, by the children, by Pump. Something kept the Viking grounded there which lent to his greater frustration and though the All-Father had not made it clear to his loyal subject: divine intervention. It was not time. Always it was not time. Yet, he ventured to the now empty Vale nevertheless, his curiosity gaining the better of him. He had not known much of the Vale pack when they had been around the Wilds, then again the wolves of the Ridge had been suffered a vast and massive tragedy and had been tending to their wounded wolves and land. There had been no time to venture forth and learn about the new packs that had cropped up and no one to send in any case.
The scents of the wolves that had once claimed the Vale, neatly nestled between four towering sights: Porcupine Ridge, Sheepeater Cliff, Mount Apikuni, and more curiously the Sunspire of which if the scents of numerous wolves and the howls and things that traversed, daily messages being sent from leaders to subordinates (wolves most effective way of communicating) was anything to go by. The last time he had heard anything (which had namely been when Avyo was speaking with him) he had not mentioned the Sunspire being claimed. This left Ragnar with the distinct impression that like the Isle pack: they were new. It was knowledge that the platinum Viking sought. Always more knowledge. His favored God was the God of curiosity, after all. He did not particularly care to offer anything to these wolves — he held no stock in alliances which were nothing more than falsities that would be revoked at the first chance of a pack needing help (leaders were only out for the welfare of their own pack most of the time) — and they were far enough away from Horizon Ridge that they were not really considered an enemy. They simply…existed.
He slowed as he drew nearer to their borders, though Ragnar made sure to leave a respectful distance from their borders and his body — he’d been at this game a long time and was acting as simply a dignitary since he held no real purpose other than to gain what ever information they were willing to give him so he had something — and sent up a howl expressing his interest in just talking. As an Outrider he made it his business to understand the other packs in the Wilds, new and old.