I definitely want @Ragnar in this, but anyone is welcome to join! The more the merrier!
The shadow passed quietly through the terrain with unnatural quiet and ease. She watched the day slowly begin twist into evening, though it still had a while to do so. She stared up at the sky as the moon seemed to defiantly glow against the sun's harsh, blinding light. Every time I look up... I feel so small...
Nightshade sighed, her indigo eyes burning a soft glow in her otherwise black mass. Her pupils were, once again, dilated, for some odd reason, and her irises once again hid the sign of any possible whites to show, even if they were there. They always were unnaturally big, but it never seemed to bother her sight much, even if the sun was a little bright...
The dark she-wolf determined it would be clear weather, and dug a small pit in the shadow of a tree, hoping her quietness and dark pelt would go unnoticed to any passerby that would decide to disturb her.
It's still quite sunny...
Closing her eyes, the tired wolf almost immediately fell asleep, the only sound coming from her were soft huffs of breathe.
She continued on sniffing and snuffling and she came upon a strange scent another wolf and with hackles raised she followed it, they were awful close to their borders, though at least this one was not across them. She growled softly and then with a small chuff let the other wolf know she was there and then she stood her body tightly coiled and her blue eyes studying whomever it was that would unfold from the foot of the trees and its roots.
Slowly, the dark wolf lifted her head, though, if it were shady enough, it would seem as if a black, frothy mass had moved rather than a wolf. She met eyes with the beautiful young shield maiden, and instantly flattened her ears back in slight submission. Ah... the scent of the nearby pack... I did venture too close...
The large-iris'ed shade flattened her ears further against her head, but slowly stood up. She began to take cautious, tentative steps away from the tree, sidestepping as to not close ground between the two, rather just trying to find running space, should she need it. Nightshade's muscles rippled smoothly under her black pelt, showing that she could hold her own, though it was obvious the two-year-old did not wish to fight.
She silently waited for the reaction.
Thistle stared as the other moved following movements with practiced ease. She had been working on her own prowess as time moved on. She stared dead pan and spoke softly Why do you venture so close to our borders?
"My apologies, Miss. I was aware of your pack's borders, and yet I failed to heed the fact that I may have been too close."
Ragnar had been following his Queen Wife at a distance, observing how she was settling into her new role as Drottning. He would have made his presence known to her, eventually, but he understood that she still desired her space from him, which put something of a damper on his ability to enjoy having her in leadership with him. He was not able to converse with her about different situations, and basically was just like he was still leading by himself on as far as the discussions he expected them to have went. He had his doubts about promoting her, not because he did not think she could do it but simply because she was young and sometimes rash and tended to let her emotions get the better of her at times. He only worried that her irritation might cause a similar disaster to what had happened with Bragi. It had lost him not on what he suspected would be a valuable member but also his only true born son. He had not stopped the boy, figuring that he, himself, was to blame for his departure just as much as Thistle was and it was far too late for restarting. As a leader, Ragnar had found, that it was important to disconnect emotions from making important decisions and first impressions. They were the core of the pack, and their subordinates looked to them for guidance, to make the best decisions possible.
It was no different than Ragnar choosing to relocate instead of storming Wheeling Gull Isle and chasing them form their home, or killing them all until the sea ran red with their hot life blood. He had wanted to fight with every fiber of his being. He had wanted and could not help the feeling that choosing the high road made him look weak and like a coward and yet he had to set aside his own desires and emotions and do what was best for the family that was Stavanger Bay. He was their Jarl, and to them he gave direction, set an example. He loved her as she was and didn't want her to change even if half the time all they did was fight, make up and then fight again but he admitted to himself that she needed to work on that or he would have to demote her until she could prove that she could sever the two.
It was when Thistle had approached the borders that Ragnar had made a wide loop, intending to check on her once more before he returned to his Priestess Wife and the children with dinner, intending to leave the best part for Thistle for when she returned to the Jarl's den only to stop when he caught the scent of the lone she wolf outside of his borders at the same time as Thistle appeared to approach her. Providing dinner for his family was temporarily put on hold as he pushed through the tree line, sliding his body against Thistle's as he moved past her, body placed to her right but between her and the dark woman, staring at her with eyes of caribbean ice.
She stared at the girl a growl still in her throat. Far too much of late they heard the tell tale apology of being near or past the borders and it needed to stop, there were children growing here, more to come and she would not have it. Baring teeth in a silent snarl, at the girls answer to lay black lips down again she waited.
Her husband brushed her side though quickly and she turned head sideways to let blue eyes trace his form to find where he was going and what he was doing. Putting himself between her and whatever was before her a habit he seemed to have. Thistle tightened her stance and stayed still staring and studying. What would this girl say to that? would she answer or would she run, and did Thistle want to chase.
No. It wasn't him. His eyes were kinder. Softer, she remembered. She let loose an inward sigh, her dilated pupils giving only a spark of excitement fade to disappointment. She wondered if she would ever find that lone wolf, and tell him thank you, at the very least.
Realizing she had been staring, she lowered and backed away a single step. After a silent moment, the word came from her lips and onto the wind. "Nightshade."
Ragnar watched the stranger with observing, predatory eyes, his smirk tugging mischievously at the corners of his lips. Thistle was radiating tension and discontent aimed towards the woman, this Ragnar felt cracking through the air, nearly tangible. Scarred half of his face was thrown into the moonlight as he tilted his head the other direction, as if it would give him a better angle of looking at her. It did not change much but his own direction of perception. His question was answered simply with nothing else given. Nightshade. He glimpsed at what he could see of his Queen Wife out the corner of his eye before his gaze refocused upon the loner. She hadn't trespassed so he Ragnar had no reason to react with any sort of hostility towards her. Still, he missed having a slave since Nerian had been freed when she'd agreed to be his second wife. Ragnar could not determine what it was that he missed and realized that no one would be able to replace Nerian's disposition on her title, though Ragnar had never really treated her like a slave to begin with.
It was not with hostility that he eyed the woman with piped interest, noting that she looked strong and that he wanted another. Calculation was written across the Viking's expression as he studied her with a nearly inaudible hum of hmmm in his throat. He did not intend to ask her why she was so close to their borders, figuring that her answer would be the same as all the others: I need to join a pack. Instead, he liked the idea of stealing her even if it was from loneliness and even if she had not intended to join a pack at all. He missed raiding and this was as close as he could come under present circumstances.
Thistle looked at her husband as he looked at her, wondering what she had to say. But she had nothing to say, he wanted another slave, so be it she would not stop him. However, if it turned into another Nerian thing she would leave him in the dust and not look back, no matter how badly it hurt. one shared woman was enough for her thank you very much.
Thistle tilted head and spoke softly have you any knowledge of healing? Thistle was always curious if someone knew to heal, she liked to pick their brains and learn what they knew about healing, and see if she could use it or if she already knew it.
However, if you guys are against it, just tell me and post like she just said "Yes, I do have knowledge of the medicinal herbs." I'll edit the post then, but if we're all agreeing to it here... TO THE CHASE... Where she will fail, obviously. :p
A shiver ran down the spine of the black she-wolf. Slave... The thought irked her. She couldn't... She had considered joining this pack on peaceful terms, but was this in anyway possible? She needed to backtrack, to think... But would these wolves even give her a chance to think?
She closed her eyes and her mouth, becoming a black silhouette for a few moment as she inhaled and exhaled deeply through her nostrils. She opened her eyes, a deep fire glimmering defiantly in her pupils.
"I do have plentiful knowledge in the art of medical aid..." The black wolf began slowly, and one could see the tension suddenly fill her muscles as they began to contract in that single moment. "But you must wait another day to see it."
With that, the dark wolf swiveled with feline-like grace, and began to speed off, fast as a snake's strike, away from the two Norse followers, a black comet beginning to take form.
Thistle remained quiet on the subject of him taking another slave. It rose Ragnar's suspicion slightly he let it go if only because they needed to show a united front in the face of strangers. It occurred to him that perhaps Thistle had something of a similar thought, unless she truly didn't care if he took another slave. It was true that this circumstance was different from when he had taken Nerian from her sister Priestesses. He was not raiding and this time...this time it was a punishment for daring to tell him his borders were pungent enough with the stench of urine despite that he knew they were. Sharp eyes watched each ghosting step she took back wards, understanding that she intended to bolt. Ah, but he would not let her go. If he had to chase her all around the Wilds and drag her back kicking and screaming Odinn knew he would do it. He had claimed her as his slave and she would serve him until he saw fit to release her; if she did not like that then he could give her only one other option grim and final as it would be. He did not believe in pointless deaths, knowing that pointless deaths would not see him into Valhalla.
Just as he suspected when she finished speaking she turned with a grace that would have made any ballerina jealous and bolted off. Without any hesitation Ragnar lunged after her as soon as he saw her turn, paws pounding the earth as she raced away from him, not bothering to see if Thistle was following after them. At that moment nothing mattered to the Viking then capturing his prize. With a thrilled, low chuckle the Viking stayed behind her, pushing himself harder and faster with the intention to keep his momentum propelling him further, barreling after her with the confidence that he would catch her.
His blood sang in his veins as the Berserker hurled after her, when he was close enough he lunged at her with the intention of tossing his weight into her to knock her off balance and send her body sprawling to the ground.
Thistle saw her bolt and she as smaller and more nimble of paw than her husband so she ran forward ears back and a snarl in her maw. She made a loop to get in front of the girl, having smaller stature than both of them. She would come around the front to snap at the girls other side if her husband didn't knock her to the ground first, not that he needed her help, but she would offer it all the same.
She thought she might just have been able to get away, until the female came. With her light steps and and smaller frame, she easily rivaled the speed of the lightning-fast Mackenzie Valley wolf. She saw the battle maiden swing forward and snap at her, causing her to falter. She didn't want to hurt anybody, but she didn't want to be a servant either. A paw struck out at Thistle's legs, though it might have been a black snake. The blow had not meant to wound to female, only to trip her, whether it landed successfully or not, she never found out, as it was then a white battering ram slammed into her, sending her sprawling.
Panicking, the agile creature turned her sprawl into a roll. As quickly as she could, she attempted to stand up, and if she managed to make it that far, the disoriented Nightshade could probably, at the most, swing a drunken paw at whoever came near in her few seconds of brain malfunction...
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.
Thistle trotted towards them both sliding past her husband and around to the femmes other side and stood guard again determined to not let her run this time. She held herself taut though the skin beneath her one side burned from her slide you couldn't see it and wouldn't know it was there less she told you. if I were you I'd do what my husband said I'm no longer in a welcoming mood she let loose a low growl baring her teeth at the wolf named Nightshade
She said nothing as her body went limp with a soft whump. She stared at Ragnar. If he wanted her that badly, he was going to have to drag her back. It seemed quite comical, it looked like the dark wolf was having a temper tantrum of a pup.
Thistle joined him near his newly anointed slave, telling her to listen. Ragnar understood that it would not be that easy, not with the fiery spirit that Ragnar suspected beat within her breast. She would be like taming a stallion and he was looking forward to the challenge. He watched with a mildly amused expression when she went limp with a light thump to the earth.
Thistle followed along behind them her husband dragging the girl, she would have to fix those wounds later, because she was certain the girl would at least get a scrape across her, and if she did not help soon enough it would be a lot larger than just her side, especially with her dead weight being drug.
Nightshade's thick fur protected her at first, but soon twigs prodded and poked, causing her to realize her mistake. But still, she did not move. As the cuts began to form on her flank, the most the black wolf did was narrow her eyes. She refused to show the suffering she was going through.
And so, the trio continued towards the pack, Nightshade silently taking the damage from earth, never once asking for help.
Though Ragnar's attention remained focused upon Nightshade, feeling his teeth splice into her skin as his grip would randomly tighten as he continued to drag her as if she were that trophy of a kill he had made. Perhaps to a third party observer it might have looked exactly like that. Indeed, her unwillingness to make it easy for him, while undeniably fun also demanded more work of him. Ragnar Lodbrok had never minded hard work but he was not gentle with her in accordance. As he dragged her body into the borders of Stavanger Bay all he could hope was that he had erased all of the her dignity for defying him.
In her anger, she decided she didn't need Thistles help. She knew how to clear and clean a wound like this properly. She would refuse this wolf's hand, having decided that until things make a turn for the better, these wolves were NOT her friends.
Self-preservation is key...
She followed Ragnar, refusing to meet whatever eye contact he offered and lifting her head and tail up as far as he would let him, prepared to leap away should the time ever have a need to, but never once trying again to break away.