Greatwater Lake Vann

Cease your snivelling. 

The man’s voice cut sharply against her final words, stopping her before she might finish. Jörmungandr had grown tired of her voice, of her pleas for attention. Whatever it was that plagued the white-touched wolf was not important enough for her to sputter it from her lips. The dark wolf did not understand such games. He had no patience for these things. 

Is this what brings honor to your family name? Cries to the ears of strangers. The hairs along his nape had lowered. She had lost any essence of threat she may have had. If he did not know better, Jörmungandr might have been embarrassed for her.