The sun had just begin to peak over the horizon when Julooke came out of her hiding spot- a tight hollow spot in the trunk of a tree. She had been there for at least several days, she knew, but time was a little warped for her. She remembered taking Kevlyn for a walk on the beach, thinking it safe until a bear happened up them. Stashing her son as best she could, she diverted the bear's attention to herself. It had been quite a bit more aggressive than she anticipated, chasing her for some time. She had thought she was safe at one point, and turned around to head back home, when she ran straight into the large male. Her quick reaction had saved her life, but not prevented injury. The small opening in the tree had been her escape from more harm, but the wounds she had gotten on her back leg didn't allow her to go back home immediately. Infection had set in, but thanks to her mentors, Julooke had some knowledge on how to control it. She had known, though, that she had caught a fever because of the infection, but she had no idea how long she had it before it broke.
Julooke stretched, careful of not reopening the claw wounds on her back right leg. They were still in the early stages of healing, and too much stretching could open them right back up. She began making her way back home, knowing that she was a lot further than she intended to go. She made her way to the beach, walking along the coastline towards the arch that told her she was home. It was a long trip, though, and Julooke stopped before she entered, sitting back on her haunches. Her leg hurt because of the non-stop traveling, but she didn't want to walk back in showing her pain. Her thoughts went to her children then, but she didn't allow herself to believe they were anything but fine. Verrine was here, as were Ragnar and Thistle. They had just started to be introduced to regurgitated meat, so Julooke was hopeful that they were fed and still strong. She knew some mothers still continued to suckle their pups after they were introduced to meat, but Julooke hoped what they were getting while she was gone was enough. She turned her head, dipping it to lick at her wound. The infection was gone, and it was looking good. So long as she continued to stretch it well, she hoped there would be no permanent damage, and only the scars would remind her of what had happened.
Ragnar had been absent during the descent of his Bay, too busy seeking justice for Julooke when everything decided it was going to go to hell in a messy hand basket. It left Ragnar with severe regret. He shouldn't have left. If he wouldn't have left this wouldn't have happened; though he knew that wasn't true. His presence or absence didn't matter if the Norns had decided it. Of course Ragnar couldn't ever fathom how this was affecting his Queen Wife, who had been the only leader present during the shit storm. He didn't blame her for it, because it was ridiculous to place the blame upon her when she couldn't have done anything to stop it either, but Ragnar knew Thistle — and he knew she was likely beating herself up over the whole thing. Their subordinates were adults, capable of making their own decisions and henceforth, capable of dealing with the consequences of those actions. It was upsetting that Kevlyn, one of the Ostrega babies had went missing in the chaos, and with Verrine's trail ending at the sea with no body and Julooke gone there was nothing left but to assume the very worst. The remaining Ostrega children had been relocated to the Jarl's den, with Nerian and Gyda gone there was still plenty of space even with Mercury and Gunnar's growing bodies occupying it as well.
This was only another obstacle, and Ragnar knew that the All-Father was judging him, as he always did, carefully, weighing to see how much his faithful could endure, and how he was able to handle what the Norns threw at him. Ragnar knew that he and Thistle could never replace Julooke and Verrine to the children, was not what they wanted to do; but they were still very small children and they needed some sort of parental figure to take care of and teach them. Ragnar'd been down the parental road numerous times to think that he finally had a good grasp on what it meant to be a father — even a foster one. Ragnar was not sure if he would have any more children that were of his own blood, having only had one son with the Shield-maiden Sif, but right now spawning his own children was not a priority on his list of things to do. It had been for the longest time, but he had children that needed him now, and they were more important, foster or adopted, than future, theoretical children.
The scarred Scandinavian dressed in a coat of platinum silver, grown coarse to endure the harsh, biting winds and frigid temperatures of the oncoming winter had been going about his usual patrols, knowing that Thistle and the boys were aiding him in it, especially with the loss of Verrine when he scented her. Julooke. A mix of emotions welled up inside the Jarl as he made his way towards her, following her scent trail without hesitation. Anger, relief, the stab of betrayal. Of course he did not know why she'd left them, only that she was gone, and her babies were alone, especially given that he'd been left to assume that Verrine was dead. There was no evidence that proved otherwise. He remembered the harsh words he'd spoken to Thistle, in regards to his hesitation to let her back because at the current moment all that he knew, and was left to assume, was that she'd gone AWOL on them, and no one knew anything different. Ragnar's approach slowed as he came upon her, noting that she had a few wounds(?), expression stoic as he hid behind the cold mask. Ragnar greeted her in expectant silence, icy carribean blue eyes locking upon her. The Northerner would, at least, hear her out — not because she had (once) been a good friend of this, but because he was a Jarl and that was his job. To listen to the other's side of the story and make a rational judgement on what he had to work with, and Ragnar Lodbrok was a Jarl first and foremost.
Julooke took a few moments to clean her healing wound. The infection seemed to be at bay now, and she hoped it would heal nicely over the coming weeks. Her head lifted as her gaze took in her surroundings. A regal frame came into view, coming from the Bay's territory. It could only be one wolf- Ragnar. A swell of emotions came over her, all happy to see him. Her body conveyed what she felt, her tail wagging happily between her back legs as she smiled, standing to approached him. She kept her body respectful, as always, her head lowered below his and her ears folded softly upon her head.
She took a few steps toward him before realizing she was not getting the same happy greeting in return. She stopped in her tracks, her body lowering in full submission now. Julooke was well adept to reading wolves when they were not in the mood for her cheerfulness, and she felt now was not the time for small talk and friendliness. Her brain took a few moments to try and figure out why he seemed so tense. She knew she had been gone at least several days, but things had been so hazy... Had she been gone longer, and he thought her a deserter? She wasn't really sure. She only knew, You're upset with me. she stated, her eyes glued to his large front paws that imprinted the sand. Do you think I would leave my children, my family, willingly? she asked, needing to know the answer, but not really wanting it. The wolves here she called family should have known her better than that. I took Kevlyn on a walk on the beach, when a bear appeared. I told him to hide, and I led the bear away... I thought I had lost him, but I didn't. He attacked, and I did not get away without injury. It got infected, and I have no idea how much time passed before I came to, she explained, and then waited for her stoic leader's response.
Ragnar knew that he only knew his side of the story — which was that one day Julooke was gone and gone, and gone. Which was exactly why he was willing to, at least, hear her out. He didn't give the benefit of the doubt because it wasn't fair if he gave her the benefit of the doubt just because they'd been (were?) friends, whilst he gave no one else the benefit of the doubt. She was happy to see him at first, if the wagging of her tail gave any indication, but her demeanor changed when she saw his stoic expression. Too many times had Ragnar been betrayed to so willingly give that benefit of the doubt, and with the sting of Nerian's betrayal and abandonment still present like the linger of poison in his blood stream he was less likely to trust easily. He watched as she lowered her body into submission as the realization of his mood sunk into and when she spoke the Jarl remained silent.
But before he broke that news to her, he had to figure out, first, what to do with her. He did not respond verbally, when she spoke what had happened, truly wanting desperately to believe her; while remembering the harsh words he had told to Thistle Cloud in the wake of all the incidents crashing down on him, stuck as he'd been in his own self pain. Silently he ghosted forward to her, and without asking her permission began to sniff at her, investigating the wounds for a little bit, circling her slowly as he attempted to determine if he had it within him to give a second chance.