He had to see for himself that Wheeling Gull Isle had truly gone from their secluded Isle, after having deduced that it was true, their scents scattering into the four winds he began digging up their food caches they had created wondering if any of them were still full. He was not above raiding, which he had planned to do to them whether they had disbanded or not. As it happened for Ragnar his grim peridiction at the start had been proven correct — making the scarred Scandinavian wonder if he didn't have a touch of the Seer in him. It wasn't possible. The Seer of Odinn's Cove disfigured because he had been cursed by Odinn. His curse had been to interpret the will of the Gods by the signs they had given to him. Ragnar had began having dreams from the All-Father when he had began his Berserker training (consuming the drugged mushrooms_ though whether they could be considered oracle prophecies or not he did not know.
Ragnar had been on his way back from investigating, intending to come back to raid what he could before other predators realized what was there and took it from him. He'd began the trek back across Sea Lion Shores, the dry sand pliable beneath his large paws, while the sand dampened by the tide molded to the shape of his paw, curving beneath weight until he left a trail of paw prints until a wave reached greedily, splashing against his long legs, erasing any sign that the Viking had been there moments ago. It was as he began to near the arching curve that would welcome him home he had caught sight of the ivory female a few feet from the sands' scent markings moments before she had sent out her howl. It was loud and strong, and swiftly the Viking made to close the distance. Call the devil and he shall appear, Ragnar smirked coyly to himself at that thought biting back a soft chuckle as the heathen drew nearer to her.
Instead he wrote it off as her wanting to learn from him.