She seemed to accept his wanting of just conversation, or if not conversation then at least a little company. Bragi was slowly growing accustomed to being on his own, of having his own den, of having to hunt and take care of himself. Maybe it was stupid teenage boy pride that pushed and fought against the desire to lower himself to asking for help — not that he’d had any situation in which he required it yet — especially not from Ragnar or his bitchy wife. Bragi had never had the displeasure of coming across a woman he didn’t like but he supposed that old saying ‘there’s a first for everything’ seemed to hold some semblance of truth to it. Bragi was self sufficient, either way, and had even contemplated leaving Stavanger Bay and finding a home in one of the other packs to get away from Thistle and Ragnar who gave him a sense of disorientation every time Bragi so much as looked at him. It was disorienting to look at another wolf and feel like you were staring in a mirror that had scarred you and aged you; besides that it brought with it the uncomfortable consideration that Thistle had been right in her accusation that Ragnar was Bragi’s father and as it stood Bragi did not like being told something he believed for the majority of his six months of life was inherently wrong.
He twisted in on himself slightly to scratch behind his right ear with his back claws as he watched her make a circle around him as the bee buzzed past. He had missed the initial flinch she had given but did not call her out on it, no matter how weird he found it as he settled upon his haunches after scratching, flattening the heather and wild flowers that had the misfortunate of being beneath him in the process. She stated that she was ‘famished’ and not knowing any different for the Norse to English translation in his mind was not so complex enough to include famished to mean ‘hungry’. “Nice to meet you,” Though it sounded like an odd name to him, his tone was sincere enough to convey that he had thought it was her actual name. In truth, all non-Norse names were strange sounding to him so it didn’t even click in his mind her joke having went way over his head. “No,” Bragi glimpsed around wondering how anyone could live here. It was so far from the ocean, and there were nothing that he could see but grasses and flowers but he understood that just because that everyone had their own personal preferences. “I live on the coast, in a pack called Stavanger Bay, not too far from here.” For now because he hadn’t ruled out relocating. “Do you live around here?” He returned the question, having assumed she didn’t actually live on this particular territory since she had asked him if he had.