Lyra was still feeling vaguely dizzy. It was a common feeling after she had just had access to fresh blood, which was something she hadn't had in a good long while, coupled, most likely, with some lingering symptoms from the rather rough labor she'd just been through. As such, she wasn't even sure how to answer his question. Was she still dying? Had she ever been dying, or had her hunger only made it feel that way?

"No," she said, her voice rather small. Glancing down guiltily at the body laid out across her lap, Lyra tried rather ineffectively to wriggle out from under the weight. The bed wasn't really big enough to have anywhere to go, was the problem, and she didn't think it would be very respectful to just push the body off on to the floor, particularly when the woman had just brought her through a very painful delivery in good faith — misplaced faith, it seemed, since she was dead.

The thought of the delivery brought her mind momentarily away from the corpse, however, and she glanced up at August anxiously. "Is the baby —?"

The last one had not survived, and she had been alive for that one.