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It was, so Tarafa had unsubtly implied, Mittere's turn to spend some time with their ailing youngest daughter. In fact, since the pink liones was also diseased, her mate felt this could be some sort of "bonding time." The lioness in question had thought better of telling the Bard what she really thought (bad idea, as a Bard had innumerable ways of getting back at you) and grumbled something unintelligible as she headed for the den.

It was said that having a mate meant living with compromises. They never mentioned blackmail.

Thus were Mittere's thoughts as she padded back to her den, tail lashing stiffly behind her.

As expected, there was Nyesha, leaving the den as she approached. Mittere sighed inwardly. It was unpleasant to think that this adolescent was worse off than she herself was. Unpleasant to ponder the likelihood of the younger lioness dying before too long. And Tarafa was avoiding the subject altogether, save for insisting that they spend as much time as possible with their daughter.

The pink lioness paused before the den, frowning at the lioness who had just left. She wasn't certain, but it seemed like everything about the disease had been accelerated for Nyesha. As a youngster though, the girl should have had more resistance to it. Why then was she succumbing so fast?

Sighing, Mittere began following her mate's wayward offspring. At this point, most others would say something to the lion they were catching up to. The pink lioness, however, wasn't that loquacious.

There were any number of things that could be said at this moment in the budding conversation. A pointless remark about the fact that it was past sunheight, a comment about the weather, etc. One could also ask how Nyesha was, where she was going and why. None of those were of interest to Mittere however.

The pink lioness' blue eyes had narrowed in an expression that Tarafa would have remembered well and her gaze centered considerably lower than the adolescent's face. She remembered well how her mate's body had changed before the Bard had been forced to admit her pregnancy. To see similar things on the result of that remembered moment...

"How long have you been pregnant?" the older lioness asked her daughter harshly.

There were an infinite number of variations on the lecture that even Mittere felt the urge to give right now. A little while, was it? She had to wonder how Nyesha had even found the energy for sex when she seemed so tired all the time thanks to the disease. And no wonder it had such a hold on her, her body was trying to protect not only the young lioness, but also the developing children inside of her - far too much area to cover.

"The gods say to save the mother, not the child," Mittere replied at last, after glaring at the girl for long minutes. "Yet you give yourself to Pestilence by forcing your body to choose between child and mother." The words were spat out and the Warrior forced herself to keep her claws sheathed. But by the gods...if either of the other children came forward about children of their own before Winter Solstice, she would shred them alive.

A disgusted snort was Mittere's response to the girl's shortsighted insistence. A lioness was not only vulnerable while she was pregnant. She, and her cubs through her, were not safe until the children had been weaned. But a single look showed the pink lioness that Nyesha was not yet ready to understand that kind of responsibility. Which meant, among other things, that she was less ready to be a mother than her parents were to be grandmothers.

"Throw your life away then! A more wasted life I've yet to see," the Warrior retorted. She turned on her heel to leave, before she truly lost her temper with the child. Already her claws were leaving gouges on the ground where she stepped.