Stavanger Bay We drew a map to a better place

@Thistle Cloud @Viggo @Ragnar

Without question, Ptarmigan Endore was an idiot.

Having spent a few days on Sequoia Coast, she had come to the conclusion that sand was not for her. The Big Salt Lake that rose and fell and smelled like brine was no more inviting than a swamp, and her thighs ached after a mere few hours on the shifting terrain. She had yelled at the youth in the fields behind a mountain about how the beach was slippery, because he had insisted that it wasn't. But oh, she knew that it was.

Given this, it seemed the last place Ptarmigan would seek eventual refuge would be a beach, yet that was exactly where she had gone. She wasn't really thinking about it as she padded right up to Stavanger Bay and loosed a howl for the female she had met not long ago. Part of her subconsciousness wished Viggo would come and talk her out of this decision... But, as luck had it, Viggo probably had no idea how much she would come to regret it. Even if he did follow her, he might not say anything. He might just smile handsomely, which was probably good enough for her anyway, given it made her scream girlishly on the inside.

Thistle heard the howl reach across the heavens calling for her and she was momentarily struck dumb and wary. Who was calling her, she knew no one outside of the pack lands, completely forgetting about the brief encounter with the femme Ptarmigan. She shifted thought and trotted towards it curious despite herself and she chuckled when she saw who it was.

hello Again. Ptarmigan. How are you? She then stood at the borders ears erect and forward waiting for an answer to the question adn wondering why the she wolf was here, when she had not liked sand.

Hope you don't mind the slight backtracked powerplay with Viggo sitting beside Ptarm!

While he wouldn't consider for a moment that he was following Ptarmigan blindly, he did know that he was following her. Wherever she went, the silver and cream Ostrega was not far behind. He couldn't pinpoint what it was about her that kept him by her side, but he did know that he hadn't found anything better (yet). As long as that was the case, he'd keep on keepin' on as he had been.

Arriving at the border of this pack that Viggo knew nothing about (aside from the tidbits Ptarm had given him), Viggo sat silent aside his partner in crime, even as her voice rose to call out a greeting. It took no more than five minutes for the call to be answered, and Viggo perked his ears up at the—to him, at least—stranger. She hadn't greeted Viggo, and he presumed she hadn't done so because she was waiting on him to do it first.

"I'm Viggo Ostrega. A friend of Ptarmigan's."

Crappy post is crappy. It's early and I haven't had coffee yet. xD

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It was not often that someone else beat him to summoning howl from the other side of the borders but today, as he approached the scene, tail raised over his back in a clear display of dominance the scarred Scandinavian's eyes flickered to Thistle first where she stood before the two strangers on the opposite side of Stavanger Bay's scent borders, ears cupping forth to hear the male introduce himself as Viggo. Ragnar had missed the exchange between the two women, and for the moment contented with the assumption that these were simply two strangers seeking a home. Which to him they were. Ragnar moved to his wife's side, eyes assessing each of the strangers in turn, allowing silence to follow him for a few moments before he deigned to break it. "I am Ragnar and this is my wife Thistle," He introduced themselves to the two wolves, gesturing to Thistle slightly with his muzzle. And though Ragnar could guess the answer as his black, leathery nostrils flared, assuring him that both were loners he inquired "Why are you at my borders?" anyway. Just because it felt like a ritual thing to inquire.

Her sandy-coated Ostrega friend was quick to slide up alongside her. She leaned toward him, still debating her decision to stop here whilst chewing her lip thoughtfully. She was about to say that maybe it wasn't a good idea to join a pack of total strangers when the fawn-coated Thistle Cloud arrived, greeting her with a warm familiarity.

Ptarmigan's smile didn't touch her eyes, which were alight with uncertainty, but it easily could have been mistaken for weariness. “Cloud,” she said quietly, falling silent as Viggo introduced himself. She knew little about the Stavanger Bay female, other than that she was a good playmate, yet she found comfort in the other woman's presence. “We're doing well, thank you.”

Before she could ask the same, a light-haired male made his way onto the scene. Had she not been soothed by Cloud's presence, the sight of him would have made Ptarmigan turn and walk briskly away. He was large and heavyset, clearly a pugilist or a bulwark of some sort. It wasn't his size that would have sent her away, though, but rather, the sharp scrutiny in his brilliant blue eyes and the huge scar that marred the side of his face. Her lips pulled into a thin line and she exchanged a glance with her pale agouti comrade, waiting for some sort of opinion.

Given that she had already greeted Cloud and was accompanied by Viggo, the Endore couldn't just run away now, so she swallowed and smacked her lips. “Um,” she began, but thought better of joking about having accidentally thrown her baseball over his fence. “We... Are alone.” Her ears wilted back as she realized she didn't really have a reason for being here, other than that she'd decided a pack might benefit her and the Ostrega male.

Thistle had not at first noticed the other wolf a male, but she did give him her attention when he had spoken. Well Met Viggo. I am.. before she could get her words out her husband sidled up next to her and stood staring at the pair at the border land. She fell silent and simply stood near, waiting for her husband to deal with those at the borders.

She did offer a friendly smile to the two newcomers, hoping to put them at ease, Ragnar was harsh and sometimes unforgiving but he was not a monster.

Sorry for holding this up! It's been a busy week for me. >__<

The lady attempted to speak, but before anybody could get a word in, decidedly rough looking dude came trundling toward them. Viggo flashed Ptarmigan a questioning look, but when she did not respond with a specific cue, he merely followed her lead. Viggo felt he could add nothing to the conversation, so he remained silent. This was Ptarmigan's show, not his.

As he waited for things to play out, Viggo pondered what could cause such a disfigurement to the face. Perhaps it was fire or a run-in with one of those nasty cougars. Of course, the truth was even more bizarre than his speculations. Viggo would likely never have the courage to ask, nor a reason to.

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Ragnar's gaze flickered from the ebony colored woman to the agouti colored male at her side, studying and waiting. Ragnar was patient, something the scarred Scandinavian had learned well during his time as Jarl in Odinn's Cove, but the response the woman had presented him with wasn't what he would have considered an answer to his question. In fact it wasn't really an answer at all. For a second Ragnar wondered if he had accidentally spoken in old Norse instead of English. Ragnar's gaze went to the male hoping that maybe he would respond to his question. Ragnar was met with silence from the man and his brow furrowed as he tore his eyes from them to look at Thistle as if he could will his wife to explain what exactly was happening in the current moment. Never before had Ragnar had a border meeting quite like this where he was left with more questions than he had an answer. "Ok," Ragnar drew a breath before he looked from his wife back to the two strangers. "Are you looking for a home? Is there someone in Stavanger Bay you want to speak too?” Ragnar asked hoping if he asked enough questions one of them would be correct that would give him a solid reason as to why he was even here.

Her ears planed to the sides as Ragnar glanced between them and Cloud with a frown that suggested he was confused. She had thought her simple comment was telling, but apparently she'd been wrong... Naturally, she didn't blame herself for this misunderstanding, but the male himself. As much as the Endore wanted to blurt out that he was dense for not understanding, and point out that what they said about brawn or brains was undeniably true in him, she was silent until he expanded his question.

“Well,” she said, somewhat cheekily though without malice, “if I wanted to talk to someone in particular, I'd have called them specifically.” After all, Ptarmigan wouldn't have wanted to deal with curious onlookers if she was looking for a specific person to talk to. Fortunately for both of them, Ptarmigan had the good sense to know that that was probably all the sass that this broad male would take.

“A home would be great,” she clarified, glancing sidelong at Viggo and wondering if he was mortified by her initial attitude or amused.

Sorry guys still on absence, but i'll do my best to do a few threads

Thistle winced at the girls attitude and she stood softly brushing flank across her husbands side, she did not wish to be the reason for a fight, when the girl had called her to begin with, simply because she knew her. Did you learn to like the sand? was all she asked.

She tilted her head and waited for her husband and this Viggo was it to speak, she wondered briefly if this was going to end well?

I'm the worst! :)

Viggo kept his gaze steadily on the scarred male's feet, ready for any sudden movements. He doubted such a thing would unravel into a fight, but Viggo was also too experienced to leave such things up to chance. At four years old, he'd been around the block a few times, and knew that personalities ranged from level-headed to short-tempered. He happened to be on the former side of things, but he already felt that Ptarmigan was on the latter. Not that he could fault her for it, but Viggo did hope to keep it in check.

Ptarmigan was the voice of the pair, and so Viggo remained silent, vigilant, and watchful. It was his place to do so. He did not want whatever he might say to conflict with what Ptarmigan wanted, after all.

Skipping with permission.

Ragnar seemed less than impressed with Ptarmigan's attitude, judging by the look on his face, but the female had already turned her attention to the more collected Cloud. “Not at all,” she admitted, and perhaps that was the first indication that she was maybe making a huge mistake.

The second indication was Ragnar's curt prompt for more specific information, triggering some gut instinct in Ptarmigan to get away. She glanced at Viggo then, waiting to see if the Ostrega would say anything, but if she was reading the signs right, the viking made him as uncomfortable as he made her. It was more likely that she was assuming things than that she'd really read her travelling companion right, but nevertheless, she made the executive decision for the both of them. She had always been somewhat rash that way.

“Actually, I think we should look around some more,” she said, back-pedalling as elegantly as she possibly could (read: not very elegantly) out of the situation. Before the scarred male could say anything, she'd already bobbed her head respectfully to Thistle Cloud and began to turn away. She only hoped that Viggo shared the same gut feeling about staying here.

Thistle watched her turn away and was confused, but she kept her comment to herself. If they didn't like her husband, well then the pack wasn't a good fit. Because frankly he was the figurehead of the entire pack and his word was the end game. She tilted her head and bobbed it at her former play mate and watched as she and her friend Viggo was it? practically fled from view.

Forever loyal to his Endore queen, Viggo nodded and turned when she suggested that they would look around some more. He knew this would not be the right place for them. Ptarmigan was meant to rule. Somewhere, deep down, she knew that. And he had known it from the moment that he had met her. Perhaps it was a fallacy, but so far, the Ostrega had stuck to her like velcro, and he had no reason to stop doing so.

So the duo turned their backs on the pack that might have taken them in for a short time, and fled elsewhere. Soon, he thought, they would find their rightful place.