Spotted Eagle Mountain there's really no way of winning

It was in some way relieving to know her doubts about her Lake were shared. But this dove was oblivious as to why; that much she could see in the way she grins lopsidedly, the haphazard twitch of a thin little tail. She had not seen the horrors that took place shortly before her arrival. 
Perhaps she deserved to know. 
When she asks of Zaahira's thoughts, the serpent is still for a long while. Gaze fixed on the rocky fixture beneath her feet, a heaviness had seemed to cloak her as her shoulders drop. Abruptly, lips part; Lake is death, is what she says, and her eyebrows knit together as she tries to refine the jumble of broken words that swim in her mind. Lake rescue Zaahira. But Lake lies. Khaba, she struggles with his name in particular, her upper lip curling into a venomous snarl. Khaba let Raven die. Khaba bad. Why kill Raven? 
She is quiet again, but only for a few seconds that feel like eons before the sobs begin to wrack her little body. It is a slow descent before it isn't; she is composed until she is sucked into the eye of the storm, helpless and disposable and fleeting, no warning given. 
Want, she chokes out in between bubbles of saliva. want Khaba gone. Want Lake gone.
And with trembling paws, she hoists herself back up to stare at the dove with unrepentant, bottled-up rage that had nowhere to go now. Want Raven back.