Duskfire Glacier [Plot] the big bad wolf

She'd gone overboard with the biting and now Valtýr would not talk to her. He wouldn't even let her come close to inspect the damage done. No signs of lasting damage was evident, but it was clear that Jökull had crossed a line when it came to play fighting. Looking over her understandably outraged brother from afar, she zeroed in on where she had bit him. Thankfully, there was no blood. Nope, not even a speck. A sigh of relief flowed past her lips. Didn't know she had been holding her breath.
        “Valtýr,” she whined imploringly. Crouched low, her belly dragged as she skittered closer to him. At least as close as he would allow. Her ashen and clay born brother was within earshot, but that did not mean Valtýr would take her cries of sorrow, of how sorry she was. Had she been in his position, Jökull would not be very happy either.
        “Wanted to show ya my new moves, but...didn't wanta hurt ya...like I did.” She bowed her head to him, submitting. Jökull has royally screwed up this time. Would Valtýr ever speak to her again? “Sowwy,” she tacked on, as if it would make a difference.