There once was a ship that put to sea.

The first week of little Hvitserk's life had gone by so fast, and he was well adjusted to his routine. The only son born to a litter of eight, he was quick to assert himself. Should the sisters attempt to knock him from his chosen teats or shove him from the best spots to snooze in, they'd struggle to dethrone him. From the very beginning, with his loud mouth and solid head, Hvitserk was a force to be reckoned with.

Sound asleep, the tawny babe rolled onto his back. He paddled with his hind limbs as he shifted to make himself comfortable again, likely kicking a sibling in the face as he did so - that of @Ragnhildr or @Skathi, perhaps.


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While enemies still sat on their doorstep and the words of possible war still whispered among the north, Ragnar had set his attention to the future. A debt still need paid for the spilt blood of Stormborn and Sindri readied herself willingly for battle. Ynness, may she find happiness with the gods, was no longer of this earth. Ragnar set his mind to those that were. Ragnar intrusted his pack would be ready for whatever was to come.

He hunted this day, something he had not done in quite some time. Often he set his sites to exploration, the building of alliance and expansion within their grasp. This time his task was simple. Not one he needed to toe around with pretty words and strained smiles. He caught the heavy fish and hoisted it onto their rocky shores.

His path led him to the eastern most edges of his claim, within the thick of thr forest. Here, the king drops the fish outside the mouth of the den of @Freya. Within, his children stirred. A group of many more, though these he hoped might carry the name of Stormborn. But one, a son, to which Ragnar silently set his icy eyes to now as he lowered into a lay.


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Hvitserk doesn't fully register in Ragnhildr's mind. Their tiny pea brain has yet to comprehend the world around them fully, but what they do know is when something touches them, it's time to fight. A paw smacks them square in the nose and Ragnhildr's instinct is to chomp. His tiny mouth won't do much damage yet, since he doesn't have teeth, but he refuses to back down from a fight. The problem is that he's blind and deaf, and wiggles around, squeaking in annoyance as he mouths the air, trying to gum the paw pad that did him in.
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Skathi had been napping when Hvitserk and Ragnhildr became rowdy. She woke as one of them jostled into her and she woke with a soft squeak that quickly turned into a pathetic wail. She worked herself up into a full-on tantrum—her screaming paired with some unnecessary thrashing. It was a request—no, a demand—for somebody to stop her brother’s fighting immediately.

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He regained his comfort swiftly, and began to doze almost instantaneously. His slumber was short-lived, however, for an offended sibling sought revenge for his actions which were purely accidental. Hvitserk scrunched his little face up at the contact made by another, aware of the gumming of toothless maw on his leg and not at all appreciating that new sensation.

So he wriggled, shifting himself onto a belly that was full of milk after gorging himself, and tried to escape. The sudden pressure on his podgy tummy forced him to retch and, much to his surprise, he involuntarily vomited his stomach contents (probably onto poor @Skathi who kicked and screamed close by). He felt the burn of it in his throat and in his nose, and began to wail.


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Of course Ragnar happened to come along when the pups began screaming and exorcist vomiting everywhere.

Ragnar's golden ears flattened hard against his skull and he finds himself looking to the left and to the right outside of the den, a pleading of 'HELP!' silent in his expression.

Ragnar had never the need to tend to the messy duty of fatherhood much before. Sindri in those early stages remained planted with roots in her den and had many a wolf to comfort her in her both early stages of happiness (for her pups) and dispear (for her dead mate) whilst they lived on The Wall.

Now, Sindri was no where to be found and @ "Freya" having probably gone to take a piss or stretch her legs, was probably keen to sit back and laugh at Ragnar's struggles from a distance.

Ragnar began to lick his son and poor Skathi clean, all the while with wrinkled nose and holding back from wrenching his very self as he gagged between strokes of puppy fur.
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Poor Ragnar. Poor, unsuspecting Ragnar. Hvitserk did not even consider his father, however, as he loudly complained over the misfortune that'd occurred to himself.

Still, the Alpha reached to clean and soothe. Hvitserk carried on crying for a time, his nostrils flooded with half-digested milk and stomach acid, though the sensation soon began to ease. Later, when the tension lessened and the cubs' energy began to wane, the boy settled for a much-needed and uninterrupted rest.


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