Stavanger Bay in the midnight hour

You get my 600th post! :-)

<style type="text/css">table.ragnar {background: #ffffff url("http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v190/theder/ragnardertable_zpsefab268a.png") no-repeat top center;}</style>

The boy did not put up a fight, not as Ragnar advanced and not as Ragnar lunged for him. The collision of bone, muscle and sinew was satisfying as his jaws parted and made contact with the junction of the boy's neck and shoulder with ease. It had been aimed, initially, as a killing blow but had, at last minute been a change of his mind to avoid it. Not that Ragnar had a sudden change of heart on the matter of trespassers but because this boy did not smell like Wheeling Gull Isle. It was very nearly the only thing that spared his life; and to be fair he had thought only to kill Isle trespassers with the intention of taking all others captive. From what the boy's scent told him he was a lone wolf, though the drawling of blood from his grip upon him, the pitiful whine nearly unheard as the boy of shadows seemed to come to a pool of fur and bones at Ragnar's paws, Ragnar did not have much time granted to him to dissect it further than that. After a moment of ensuring that the boy was fully at his mercy, the scarred Scandinavian pulled back, lips and revealed teeth stained with the loner's blood as his lips pulled back, nicked muzzle crinkling, a low growl of warning escaping from parted lips before he rose his head to loom over the boy, eyes of Caribbean ice cold and unforgiving. "Why are you trespassing in my lands?" He demanded of the shadow cloaked creature before him, black leathery nostrils flared to inhale the scent of loner, and salt water mixed with the pungent scent of the stranger's blood of which lingered as a prolonged taste on Ragnar's tongue.