Thisle was smaller than him which gave her the advantage of speed, racing ahead of him to cut the woman off Ragnar assumed. He was swift but his Queen Wife was undeniably faster than him, not slowed by the mass of battled hardened muscle as he was. For a split second Ragnar admired her, missing the ebon creature's strike against Thistle. Ragnar saw the result, though, as he neared the two women, watching Thistle's body stumble and fall as she tripped. Swiftly, the scarred Scandinavian veered a hard right to avoid tangling his long legs with Thistle's own, side stepping her, wishing he could spare her a glance but knowing that if he did he would lose her. Ragnar had no intentions of letting this woman go. She may have had speed on him but he knew these Wilds like the back of his paw. He would find her even if she eluded him this night though he was hell bent determined not to let that happen.
His body collided harshly with hers when he launched himself at her, her body sprawling on the dirt, the collision having stopped Ragnar in his chase, sides heaving, adrenaline surging through his body as he moved quickly when she turned her sprawl into a roll. She was on the ground and he was determined not to let her find her feet again. But as she attempted to stand he was already there, looming over her, teeth bared, eyes alight with the thrill of the case.