Hushed Willows What To Do With These Weary Bones

So Stark had been telling the truth. Tavi had given explicit directions — a very specific, short, cut-to-the-point message, and this woman had decided to throw that away. The alpha's smile waned, and she even turned her head away from the grizzled woman, doing her best to remain level-headed despite the great urge she now felt to do otherwise. She looked to the trees, watched their empty branches swaying around them, and listened to the din that the movement created. Once this might have soothed her, but now Octavia didn't know how to feel.

She returned her attention to Nova and noticed the strain in the crone's entire being. The famine was working hard against all of them, and Tavi realized sending this one on the quest was probably a bad idea for everyone involved. Her expression was blank - hollow, even, gutted - but she got directly to the point without mincing words. You had one job. One.

I told you to find Reek and tell him he had a son. Those were my exact words, weren't they? I think they were, the question was rhetorical, while the chill that swept through Tavi's words could have frozen the sun. But you told him things I did not give you permission to tell him. Precious information. Were you planning on undermining me the entire time, or was it a spur of the moment decision? Don't answer that, there was a bit of heat now, and she hastily, angrily slurred the addendum to that sentence before Nova could respond. She was doing her best not to chase this useless old woman from the packlands, but it took actual concentration. You've put my son in danger. Now... Explain that.

The rest of what Nova mentioned - of Reek potentially seeing his son, the bug muncher comment - it wormed under her skin too, but Tavi refused to focus on that for the time being. She filed it away under the heading Emotional Manipulation within the storage locker of her mind.