The woman was trembling, her whole body wracked with shiver and shakes that made Ragnar ponder if he should call for Thistle. His wife was the only healer that the Bay currently had, with the departure of Nerian, and Ragnar was left relying upon her heavily, for his own sake and the sake of the others. In this, the Northman was glad that there were several months to go before she went into heat, and that he had made the very hard decision to evaluate the status of the pack before they went and brought children into the world, if the Bay could not provide for them. It wasn't necessarily a fair decision on his part, when he thought of it selfishly, because he was the Jarl and why did he have to sacrifice what he wanted, what Odinn had promised him just because they already had small children that needed the attention of not just Thistle and himself, but the pack as well. At any rate, if any of his subordinates found mates he was going to be a lot more picky about who was allowed to mate. The standards had yet to be set, and Ragnar was in no real rush because Thistle and him were the only couple in the pack (that was official at any rate?) but nevertheless he knew he was going to set the bar quite high. If he had to sacrifice what he wanted most in the world, then he had no qualms asking others to do the same. Even if it cost him favor within his ranks.
Ragnar's attention was brought back to the women when she began to stutter out what he presumed to be a response, but then began to babble about so many. The desire to ask her of so many 'what' was pressing but a quick glimpse at the hoof stamped ground told the Scandinavian what he needed to know. She had gotten caught in a stampeding horde of prey. In hindsight, she was lucky to be alive, and it was understandable that she had no choice, if she wished to live, to follow the herd even if it meant, in the massive confusion, trespassing; but this was a rare circumstance and one of the few that Ragnar could allow for an accidental trespassing and believe it. Clearly, she wasn't lying to him: she was terrified. That was obvious.
Ragnar watched her, a bit helplessly, as she slumped down to the ground and began to sob. The Viking recoiled back as if her tears would lash out and bite him. He had never known what to do with tears, and only a few times had he ever cried them himself. Despite the rumors that circulated around Ragnar and his culture in general, the Jarl wasn't heartless. He was still canine and capable of generosity and mercy ...when circumstance begged for it. It seemed pretty clear to him that he wasn't going to be able to have a lucid conversation with her until she calmed down.