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The only reason that Ragnar had heard the series of yelps at his borders had been because he had been nearing the girl's position having been aware of her presence by her scent before he had heard the yelps. Scarred and unscarred ears slicked back to his skull in mild annoyance. Most wolves sent out a howl. A howl he could have dealt with. It was the yelps that insinuated what Ragnar assumed to be impatience (despite if they meant no such thing) and pain that did not put Jarl in any kind of good mood the closer to her he drew. For some reason loners had this misconception that he cared anything for their lives and that he would become some kind of hero and see to it that they were healed. He did not care about wolves that were not apart of Stavanger Bay and that was simply the harsh reality of it. It did not take Ragnar long to shrug past the tree line, allowing harsh icy caribbean blue eyes to study the young girl. She was about a year old if he had to guess and the Jarl let out a small, nearly inaudible huff. What was it with all these young creatures finding their way there? Stavanger Bay was no safe haven for orphaned children, though the only thing she had going for her at the current point was that if she wasn't already a year old she was close to it.