Some People Call This Junk. Me? I Call It Treasure

His injuries from the previous battle that had occurred here had long healed. Some rest, some herbs, some TLC to care for the wounds so they didn’t become infected and destroy the temple that was his body had done the trick. No new scars were added to the collection, something he was thankful for.

This time he wandered away from the border of the troublemaking neighbors. Not wanting to get into some kind of scuffle again for a war that he didn’t want any part of. Honestly, he had no idea why there was even a war to begin with. What had started it all? Was he on the wrong side of it or were their enemies truly in the wrong for something to earn the title as foes?

Well, whatever the reason, it wasn’t like they were into the idea of talking it out anyway. The one woman just immediately ran into battle as soon as he saw seen so they would be nothing but a thorn in his side.

Today instead he was on the search of herbs. Mint was hard to find around the seas and so he was on the hunt for a bunch. Spring was on its way around and new fresh herbs would pop up any day now. A good pack caretaker would make sure to grab as much of the herbs as possible before enemy members could shop there first.

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All had remained quiet between Dragonford and Northfall, despite their proximity to one another. Maybe they had been lucky on either side to avoid one another- maybe the gods themselves had deemed it so. Either way, Ragnar's attention lied elsewhere with the more recent happenings, including newcomers, visits from far off packs and battles with walrus.

Today, he strode along the northern reaches of the Brim first, then southward with an intent to perhaps run into one of those Windmere wolves. Ragnar was not certain of a direct path but knew them to be within the great mountain range somewhere.

Instead, he smelt islanders. Ragnar was tense but did not flee. He followed the scent with a dangerous curiosity. He was met with a large and scarred white wolf. Ragnar would not immediately assume this was the one mentioned by his members but could make the connection. Ragnar woofs out, curious of what the other might do. Would he run, attack, speak? Maybe even ignore him...
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So far no good... There were no signs of mint anywhere. It was possible he would need to travel further into the mountains looming in the distance. The soft sands of the misty brim were simply not the right earth for the little plant to flourish.

A call stole his attention from the mountains and caused the harsh healer to turn on his heels and meet eye to eye with what he suspected was a neighbour. Thick features fell flat as he eyed the stranger... uncertain where this was going to go this time. Was he here like the last woman to just attack him without a word?

No, he wouldn't have drawn the titan's attention first.

“What is it?” There was clear annoyance in his tone and posture. Every bit of him was uninterested in dealing with this "war" crap that he knew little of how it started to begin with.

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If it was information which the man sought after, Ragnar had no quarrels with sharing. However, his own opinions on the matter would be biased, given obvious reasons from which Ragnar stood on this.

The other man's annoyance was clear and Ragnar did not judge him for this. They were enemies, after all. Even if Ragnar's own words were calm and pleasant, the smile which he was wearing was all too calculating and mischievous. He was waiting to see if the other would attack. He would be grateful for it, too. But Ragnar was a patient and reasonable man, far more so then Sindri.

“My young daughter was murdered by your leader for walking these lands...” He said to casually, tipping his chin upward as he looked around the foggy, gloomy and mostly dead landscape. Why this was much of a place to fight over, Ragnar was not certain.

Then, moving his ice pale gaze back to the yeti. “I was just wondering if you had a willing to do the same before I attempted to go further?”
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Impatiently he waited. As much as he wanted to walk away. To turn a blind ear and eye to this man, after his last encounter with their kind it didn't seem like a smart decision. To turn your back on a possible dangerous opponent. While silence lingered a little longer, the harsh stare of the dragon watched the Northerner with daggers in his eyes.

Soon enough the silence was broken. Some story about a daughter being killed here by Vendrussel. Aarkron's glare narrowed. Growing in intensity as wrinkles formed on his nose and forehead. Still, he had no desire to lunge.“I have no interest in war, not anymore.” Perhaps in a previous lifetime seeing the scars along his face.

“The loss of a daughter is tragic.” And he wouldn't dare to downplay such a thing.

“Are you certain Vendrussel didn't have her reasons?” Was the girl attacking the leader of Dragonford Isles? Was it self-defence where one had to die and either outcome would have been tragic for one of the packs. Who was the antagonist here? Who started this war?

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At first, the large white wolf's eyes narrowed further, his brow furrowing as though trying to find some trick to Ragnar's story or as though he searched for sympathy. Ragnar only stated facts.

Then, he spoke his uninterest in a war. Ragnar held back the short but could not hold back the shaking of his skull. Did he not realize that by placing his loyalty with Dragonford, he was already in the war lest he refuse to fight and become a traitor to his pack?

Aarkron did not seem sarcastic or rude upon hearing of Northfall's dead. Ragnar offered truth.

“I admit, when you Isle wolves decided to settle on the islands in our coastal 'front yard', my family and I were not pleased... Kei and I thought the peace may be kept, so long as you lot kept to your claim on the island. Vendrussel must have wanted more...” His head tips to the side and outward, hi muzzle scanning over the lot of his Brim as silent explanation.

“Ynness was barely a year old and only had three useful limbs. I couldn't imagine she would have been much of a threat to a seasoned warrior...” A huff came then and Ragnar began to take pace once more. He would move to Aarkon in a wide acre, leaving distance for them both s he passed on...
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Regardless of who he was with, Aarkron's stance did not change. He didn't incite any fights along the beaches, he didn't welcome war at his doorstep other than watching what was labelled as the enemy and nothing more. He was his own man, he could think for himself and not blindly follow a leader. “Wouldn't you someday when your pack grows beyond the resources you currently have?” It was silly to think that a pack would only claim a small collection of islands if they needed more resources. Aarkron was certain Ragnar would one day set his eyes on another piece of land as well.

What followed was something else. Three-legged yearling, and Vendrussel decided that death was the proper action to take place. His brows creased and nose wrinkled at the thought. It was a coward's move to attack someone who was barely fully grown. Whos first season had not even come yet. Aarkron's decision was made. While Ragnar circled and wandered away, giving the dragon a wide berth—the titan circled back with an agenda of his own.

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Exit!

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