Heath was a practical doe.

A calculating doe. Steady and stealthy of hoof. Heath thought of winters, and how to survive them. Heath thought of gathering, and the hunt. Heath thought of how to store, and barter. Heath was a practical doe.

Heath did not think about bucks. She did not think about handsome bucks, with soft locks tumbling in the breeze. She did not think about soft, gentle bucks, nor liaisons with them. Liaisons with soft gentle bucks, in soft gentle groves.

That was her older sister, Bryony. Heath knew she thought of that, despite her reserved exterior, because she'd heard her sighing so to her own reflection in a pool one day, and by the time she did, it was too awkward and embarrassing to signal that she was there, and so she knew, but Bryony didn't know. But anyway.

Heath did not think of bucks, and liaisons with them, that was her sister, Bryony – Heath thought of the hunt.
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But it was Heath.

Not Bryony.

Who'd had that liaison.

With that soft gentle buck.

And now Heath was panicking, because she was pretty sure she'd been knocked up.

Heath had never thought about that.

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She was preggers, she was pacing, and she was panicking. Bitter End thought this was a wonderful circumstance to appear as a caiman, stomping into the fray with her little feetsies, mouth slightly agape in a little reptilian smile. End was very keen indeed, emerging swiftly through the brush. The doe's fur looked so wonderfully soft - she imagined it would be like cotton in her mouth.

Heath spun at the pitter-patter of swift claws, hackles raised - oh, it was just a caiman. Not a particularly big one, either, and somewhat doofy-looking. Weird horns.

Then again, caiman meat kept well. A small reserve might not be bad for the winter.

She raised her hoof with purpose, aimed, and brought it down -

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Bitter End did not like the mildly disdainful look that she felt she saw on her cute fluffy face upon her arrival, she did not find it appropriate - the way that her eyes quickly swept up and down her head. It made her feel very self-conscious and somewhat irritated, which made for a terrible End to deal with.

She quickly rolled out of her hoof's way and gave a very angry caiman bellow at the doe, thumping her tail in great annoyance. Then it was a mare, scaley, rather more large, and yelling.

"You're pregnant, for the Motherfather's sake! Have some self preservation! Pick your battles!"
This was not at all the reason why she was yelling at her, but it sure sounded better than the actual one.