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The den was quiet. It was fairly unusual for this den in particular, the Bard reasoned. Or at least, fairly unusual since she'd had kids. Even when it was just herself and Mittere, the den had still been quiet. Filled with emotion, but quiet.

This was, however, the hardest part of being in the Kitwana'antara. The death watch. Tarafa knew she didn't have to be here, that there were Healers who specialized for this, but Nyesha was her daughter and expected her to be here. So, here she was, curled up with her daughter until one could hardly tell where one lioness' fur ended and the other began.



Mittere stood on a rise, a fair way off from the den, watching the cubs play. They were being watched, in turn, by Jani and Amani. The pink lioness had, almost forcefully, rousted Nyesha's siblings out of the den when the dying adolescent expressed a desire to not have company. Not to mention they were still young, and neither of them truly cut out for a Warrior's path. She would save them the heartache of watching a loved one die if she could.

She didn't know if Tarafa had seen her own siblings die, though the pink lioness was aware that such beings had existed at one point and no longer did. Even Mittere hadn't been there when her own littermates had died, three youngsters whom she hadn't thought of in years. Death brought out the melancholy in all of them.

The lioness shook off the thoughts and began heading back to the den. The cubs and adolescents would be fine without her, already involved in some game of their own. She, on the other hand, had a responsibility to Nyesha that needed fulfilling.

Tarafa nuzzled her daughter as Nyesha snuggled closer. It was almost like the younger lion was a cub again, innocently cuddling close as she slept. The Bard could feel tears welling up in her eyes and hastily blinked them away. She wanted to say something, anything, but couldn't think of a single word that would be worth breaking the silence.

The quiet was broken, however, but a soft tread at the den entrance. The older lioness tensed at the sound, but relaxed again as she recognized her mate.

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Mittere ducked into the shadowed den, moving quietly and with no real hurry. Her eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the gloom and for a moment she couldn't see Nyesha, curled up as she was with Tarafa. The tableu was heartbreaking and the pink lioness was glad none of the other children would see it. She doubted anyone else in the family could really pick out that scent in the air that spoke only of death.

The Warrior settled herself on Nyesha's other side and gave the younger lioness a consoling lick and greeting. Yes, they'd had disagreements that had led to Mittere spending very little time around of late, but how could she abandon her child when the girl needed her most?

The pink lioness snorted at the words. Even now she refused to blunt her words. She was confident that Nyesha would understand though. The young lioness had a strong core to her, and it was a pity it had taken them both so long to see it.

"No you're not," she replied simply. "You'd do it again, and to hell with what I or anyone else thought." That wasn't to say that she was any more thrilled now about being a grandmother than she'd been when she first noticed the pregnancy. But...she'd probably let it slide the same way she'd let Tarafa's pregnancy slide.

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Tarafa levelled a glare at her mate. Honestly, what was Mittere thinking, to respond that way at such a time? Then again, if she had said anything else, she wouldn't be Mittere, now would she? The blue lioness shook her head. This was just more proof that if you loved someone, you forgave them for anything. And loved them because of their...quirks, not despite them.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," the Bard told her daughter. "Nothing at all."

The smile tore at Tarafa's heart and she couldn't help smiling back. Her eyes were filling again and she debated letting the tears go. Mittere's eyes, from what she could see, were dry. But the older lioness knew well that her mate was fully capable of feeling emotion. She just didn't think it necessary to show it the vast majority of the time.

"You are very welcome," she replied softly. "You know we're always here for you."

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The pink lioness "harrumphed", judging that to be slightly more polite than another snort. She might not usually have a use for manners, but she did have a decent understanding of the things. "You don't have to thank us, kid," she told Nyesha. "We're your parents and that means it's our job to be here whenever you need us."

Gods, to be so brave in the face of death. This one did have a Warrior's soul, though not the nature. It made Mittere proud to call her daughter. Even if she never actually used that word aloud.

Tarafa couldn't tear her eyes away from her youngest daughter. She watched every twitch, every movement, every halting breath that Nyesha drew into her failing body. It was so painful to watch, but she could not do any less for this child of her body and heart. Indeed, there was nothing left she could do for the adolescent, save to be here and love her even now.

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Mittere, oddly enough, was calmer than her mate. Wasn't fighting back tears. Was here solely out of love. The last was surprising, given how the pink lioness had never expected to settle down with a mate. She'd always thought she'd die fighting and, given the Nergui, it might still happen. But she'd never thought to be sitting here, next to her own dying daughter.

It helped that this was not the first death vigil she'd sat. The others had been fellow soldiers, both commanders and commanded. And they had faced their end no less bravely than this young lioness. The Warrior closed her eyes for a moment, savoring that thought.