Hope (Joining thread)

*Ragnar* · July 12, 2014, 01:59 PM

It was only after a brief pause to relieve himself of bodily wastes that Ragnar continued on with his border patrol, his pace nothing short of determined and brisk. Despite the purpose in which he walked, eager to be with his children and start their lessons for the day, Ragnar was still vigilant. His eagerness did not get the best of him, and he allowed for no slip-ups in his strict routine of patrolling, investigating any little scent that he deemed out of the ordinary, pausing along the invisible piss markings to lift his leg and refresh it where he found them lacking. On the borders he was a Warden first, he simply added the titles of ‘Jarl’, ‘Husband’ and ‘Father’ afterwards. The scent of a nearby loner assaulted the scarred Northman’s black, leathery nose, potent over the smell of dampened earth from the rain cloud that had passed over them roughly an hour ago, and the combined musk of the ancient trees that housed majority of the Bay’s lands before they ebbed to a brief patch of grassland that, eventually gave way to the shore.

The yips followed shortly after as Ragnar neared the loner in question observing him with keen and predatory eyes, noting that his coat was gray, offset by the white that was mixed with in it. Upon closer examination Ragnar saw that the male’s eyes were green, and that he was missing a foreleg. For a second longer than was likely polite — the scarred Viking drew near, his head high, tail high over his back in a display of dominance that required no verbal introduction to state that he was the Jarl here, the “Alpha” — Ragnar stared unabashed at the missing limb having determined that it had not been ripped off in battle. There was no scarring only smooth skin, supple muscle soft with evidence of childhood (giving Ragnar a pretty good idea of the boy’s age), and flawless fur. He had been born like that. It was not the first time he had ever seen a wolf missing a leg, and in fact had seen them missing much more. Battle was a brutal and unforgiving mistress which was something the Vikings knew full well. They went into it with their death already accepted and Ragnar had seen and done much worse; seeing a missing limb was next to nothing and didn’t perturb the Viking at all.

"You are very young," Ragnar spoke in his quiet, heavily accented voice breaking the silence he had allowed to settle upon them. Not as young as Junior, probably around the same age as Bragi, which meant the Juvenile before him would, likely, be able to take care of himself and would not need a guardian to do things for him. Ragnar had a fairly good idea as to why the young boy was at his borders and nearly let out a sigh. Almost half of the pack was made up of children, only to add more if Julooke and Verrine decided to have a litter of their own. He glanced at the boy and asked, "Why are you at my borders?" Whether the boy was able to make a good case, could swear fealty and alliance to Ragnar and Stavanger Bay and could offer useful skills to the pack or not, Ragnar had already decided that after this boy, regardless of what happened, he would not accept any more juveniles into the Bay or soon they would be overrun by children.