<style type="text/css">table.ragnar {background: #ffffff url("http://i1359.photobucket.com/albums/q794/letokio/ragnardertable_zpsf2634bee.png") no-repeat top center;}
td {padding: 25px;}</style>
Ragnar had trusted Surra to keep their newest additions busy as he finished his patrols. The howl he had sent out to inform the rest of the pack had been short and sweet but clear with it’s message. They had two trespassers captive for two weeks and they were to be guarded. Ragnar had made the decision to take the night shift and trusted one of his wolves to keep a close eye on them when he managed to slip in time to sleep between patrolling, tending to governing duties, and teaching his children. They were much more active than they’d been a month ago and while he did not worry about them so constantly in the safety of the Bay (plus he had awesome Sitters to keep them in some kind of check) but he had began lessons figuring they were old enough to comprehend them considering they were quickly speaking or trying too. Their speech was rudimentary given their young age but each of them seemed to be improving by the day though Tveir seemed to be the most vocal. It surprised Ragnar if only because he was the Second Born. It seemed the Ein was the quieter of the boys despite that he was overtly bossy and his little Viking Princess Gyda, seemed to be a curious little thing. They were growing quickly, day by day and he made sure he didn’t miss any of their accomplishments.
Luckily, he was well versed from Sveinn, handing leadership and parenthood and he felt that he was getting better with handling young children. He still lost his patience with them at times, but he was getting better. Like his children, Ragnar was learning. It was as he had wrapped up his patrols that he decided to check in on Surra and their Captives because he believed he, out of any of the Bay’s wolves, should be watching over them the most since he had passed the judgment and commanded the punishment. As far as punishment went it was much more merciful than the Viking was used to giving. A lesson in humility as opposed to pain, or in other cases death. Humiliation was a good motivator, at least as far as Ragnar thought because he did not enjoy being humiliated. He wondered for a brief moment how his action and decision might have been perceived by his subordinates. He valued their opinions and suggestions though in the end, it was his call to make. He had done what he had thought was best by taking the girl’s suggestion and running with it. Not to the extremes that he might have done in the Cove, granted, but her suggestion fell in line with his own culture, which made him curious about where it was she had came from.
The den site was abandoned for the time being, and without bothering to stick around the scarred Northman followed the captives’ trail to where the forest began to taper off into the shore, approaching the pair when he had them in his sights, shrugging through the thick bracken, brush and trees. They had lain close together, the girl snuggling into the man’s side in a way that reminded him, almost painfully, of Gyda. The Juvenile did not resemble the Viking Princess in the least but it had been the reminder of his fatherhood that had spared her from being his slave, and her companion from his death for growling at Ragnar in his own lands. "Settling in?" A coy smirk, trademark to the scarred man, tugged at the edges of his lips as he came to a stand still nearby, alerting them to his presence if they had not scented him before hand. It was a sardonic question, lacking the warmth it would have held to a 'normal' newcomer. |