Ragnar was silent as the Second Born tried to sound out another word, but then gave up with a frustrated sigh and tried his number again. He had attempted to help him once by sounding it out slowly but Ragnar was stern in that he did not intend to hold hands (paws, technically). They would figure it out on their own, he deduced. It was how Eitri and Kenna had raised him and his brothers and considering Ragnar was fluent in both Norse and Common tongues he thought it was an effective way to learn. Besides, it wasn’t as if he could really assist them with how fast (or slow) they learned how to efficiently speak. That was all on their development.
There was the sound of little paws drumming the earth with approach and Ragnar squinted into the dimness of the den wondering if taking Tveir out had been a mistake. Gyda’s shape took form and he knew that he did not want to have to deal with two of them out at the same time on account of if someone did come along he would have to hastily shove them both in the den. Ragnar loved his children but he did not want to incur the wrath of his Gods. Ragnar was about to open his muzzle to tell her to go back inside, that he would take her out another time when she opened her mouth and let out a word. And then he thought that perhaps it had been Thistle because there was no realistic way that she would have been able to say a word. They were only just beginning to babble…right?
His brow furrowed as he studied his daughters’ shape wondering, perhaps, if it had not been jealousy that had caused her to come this far.