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The sun had began it’s ascension into the morning sky, the thick and abstract cloud stark against the sky painted with the velveteen colors of dawn, vibrant goldens, oranges, pinks, and even deep violet. Sharp eyes of Caribbean ice studied it for a moment, the rising of the sun, before the platinum Viking pushed out of the borders of Horizon Ridge, feeling his hackles bristle with both tension and relief. Tension because, for the short couple of hours he would be working on further claiming their Bay he would be absent from the Ridge’s borders, unable to keep an eye on their neighbors and the bear that now haunted their land looking, obviously for blood. Relief came in second only because it was a selfish feeling. Relief because he would be going, for however it long to continue fortifying borders, to his favored territory far away from the murderous bear and the Isle wolves. In a manner, it still felt cowardly to the Viking who had been born in blood and bred for battle; he was weary and blood sick and didn’t have enough fighters to insinuate a war that he knew his wolves, a war that Ragnar really didn’t want. So, he was being the bigger man and diplomatic leader by moving his pack elsewhere because between the two pressing forces he had no other, peaceful choice.
The bear had left another gruesome corpse for Ragnar, and unease, even still, caused the man’s guard hairs to bristle along his spine. Thankfully, it was not a wolf this time, but a doe and though there was a part of Ragnar that thought it was wasteful to let it go he didn’t dare eat it, or let it above the earth for any other to eat it. Ragnar couldn’t help the feeling that the damned creature was taunting him, reminding him of what he could do — as if Pump’s severed spine and blood drenched body hadn’t been enough of a neon sign. The longer the relocation was prolonged the more anxious the Northman began to feel. He inhaled deeply and let it out, supposing that he could only keep doing what he was doing and keep encouraging his wolves to spend more time in the Bay than they did in the Ridge until they could get themselves relocated.
Ragnar’s pace slowed as he approached the Totoka River, bending his head down to give pause for a moment and lap at the cool, rushing waters before he would seek out the shallows that provided fairly safe passage through it to continue on his way. For now, the Viking was contented with enjoying his drink.