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| After a third wolf had decided to trespass inside his borders, though luckily for the Isle girl now Bay captive it had been Thistle, Beric and Junior that had apprehended her and not Ragnar who without little doubt would have outright attacked her not just for trespassing but because she was apart of the Isle pack. He had, had enough of them. If whomever lead them couldn’t keep a tighter leash on them he would start picking them off, one by one. He had moved his pack so they would leave him and his alone and still they found him and blatantly disregarded his borders. Ragnar had no intentions of being merciful when he got around to speaking to their newest captive just as he had no intentions of letting whomever lead the Isle wolves now since Majesty’s departure go unaware of it. Granted, three of his wolves had deflected from the Isle pack but they were different. They had not trespassed and thus far he had not seen any sense of wavering loyalty from either of them. Still, he considered flaunting their newest captive to the Isle wolves as a dead pan warning. Eventually, he was going to reach a point where he was done being diplomatic and that was not a point in which he wanted to reach. It was a blood thirsty and feral point, a semblance of himself that normally did not make an appearance except on the battle field when it was blood he craved like oxygen. It had been a relatively normal border patrol up until the point when the scent of a lone wolf not too far from his borders caught his nostrils. Overpowering the scent of lone wolf was …infection. Illness of some kind and his hackles bristled. No call rose into the air, and with four children and the potential that Julooke might be pregnant soon he was not certain he wanted to allow anything sickly within his borders. Stavanger Bay wasn’t an infirmary, after all. The scarred Northman’s pace slowed when the child (about the age of his sister Hati) came into view, first nothing more than a shape. His heart froze for a second thinking it was Hati, looking pathetic and weak on the ground where she lay (or had collapsed, he wasn’t sure). Except this girl was not the right colorations to be Hati. He kept a distance between them even as he approached, eyes of Caribbean ice studying her intently, finding the source of infectious smell he had caught. Her eye was crusted with it and looked…like someone had intentionally damaged it; from what he could see of it anyway. He was still too far away to study it in any measure of detail. The child looked bad and the feral Scandinavian understood that if he did not take her in and have Thistle tend to her eye that she would die. He did not care about wolves that were not his …but she could be his, and he could care because he was a father and she …she was someone’s daughter. Idly, Ragnar stared at her stoically for now, wondering if she was even remotely lucid. "Can you hear me child?" He asked her his voice soft but uplifted so it would carry across the distance to her, and accented heavily with the accent he bore. |