Winter had finally come to these lands, bringing with it an undeniable chill that could be felt in the very marrow of the Northman's bones. Thus far, the winter here did not seem to be like the winters of the North, but there was always that possibility that these Wilds could take the Viking by surprise. At any rate, he was prepared for a harsh and unforgiving winter because it was the only type of winter that he knew. Stavanger Bay was as ready for it as Ragnar could physically alone make them, their caches filled and saved, now, for dire emergencies. Their pack hunts, Ragnar thanked Thor, had all been successful as of late which helped tremendously in keeping the caches full. On the more sorrowful side this also meant that looking for Liyaní would be harder by seven-fold. As much as Ragnar hated to “give up” the search for her, he had to set his sights much closer to home, even if that meant earning and bearing the hatred of Charon and Levi for the rest of his life. It stung, of course, because Ragnar had grown to care for the orphaned Ostrega children, but they were young and could not possibly understand that he was trying but that, as Jarl, he could not stop the world for one wolf, nor could he brush off the pack in favor of finding their sister. If he wished to do that then his only option would be to step down and Ragnar was too deeply rooted in his own ambitions for that. Stavanger Bay was like a child to him, he had created it, and it seemed fitting that only he lead it until his death, or until he was challenged, though to challenge him would be a fight to the death. Ragnar might not have ran his pack as a Viking pack as he had first envisioned it to be, the Scandinavian held true to his culture's traditions. He would accept nothing less.
Not that Ragnar thought any of his current subordinates was interested in challenging him. Ragnar did the best he could with what he was given to work with, and spent longer days and nights out patrolling the borders, or hunting, making sure he put in more hours than his subordinates because it was his job. At the end of the day, their welfare and the welfare of the Bay was his top priority; and that included making the tough decisions that no one, truly, wished to make.
Ragnar had been doing a routine patrol of the borders when the scent of a lone wolf wafted his way. Steps paused for a moment, as black, leathery nostrils flared as he sought the origin of it. His path resumed, for luck would have it, that he could intercept the loner without having to deviate from his patrol path. Ragnar saw the male soon, close to his borders but not over them, yet. Hackles bristled against the chilling sweep of the winter winds, as his remaining, right eye, assessed the other male.