Duskfire Glacier [Plot] the big bad wolf

Being vague about Hassun's condition because I'm not sure how his thread with Malachai will end up. But this is for @Jokull and any pups! Once the kids have had a few rounds in, adults can come and chase Hassun off.

He'd found the holy grail, the one thing that would surely drive away these invasive hounds. It was rooted in the earth, sheltered by the forest - hardly a few hours away from where Hassun had discovered the red-backed wolf in the first place. The den. Really, he should've gone straight for that. It was heavily marked, after all. Not a hard place to find.

What made it a difficult target was the obvious: the wolves were always around. The red bitch, a big silver beast, a yellow-faced giant, always something to impede Hassun's advance. But he had been patient. Patience was one of his strengths, far outreaching his foolish brother's habit of using brute force and stupidity.

He had waited, watched, and planned. And now, with the afternoon light reaching between the trees and urging the children out of their protective hovel, Hassun knew he had the perfect opportunity. The lynx slipped down from his roost - a tangled mess of thick branches with a gnarled trunk - and landed firmly among the ferns. From his hiding spot he could see at least one small body moving through the grove, and that recognition caused a wave of sadistic want to rise up in his heart.

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.

There were sounds coming from a thicket nearby, from the dark that had been the root of his attention for a few hours now. Hassun couldn't make out the words - if wolves could actually communicate in that manner - but he recognized something in the noise that alerted him. The children were playing, or had been. The movement through the dark was one such child, silver-streaked, able to catch the pale light which penetrated between the trees. A proper target to be sure. Hassun was glad upon this discovery; he moved as quickly as he could in to an intercepting position, and then hunkered down low. As soon as this bundle of wolf flesh was close enough, the cat would strike - there would be no stopping him. He'd put the fear of the wild in to these wolves and drive them out one by one.