Wheeling Gull Isle if you look away, the stars will know, and they will not be able to help you.

it was not some wild cry that shattered the night, but rather, rasping breath, sharp and discordant enough that it was heard even amid the crashing of the waves. 

one child lay tucked near her breast, small and pale yet living still. yet it was not this one that that collie stared at so intently, rather, the dark red lump that lay twitching still beneath her scrawny side, too light, too thin, to crush the life from the pup quickly and kindly. she ought to move, to shift, but already it was far to difficult to ride out the convulsions that wracked her, let alone shift from her splayed-out position. 

the child beneath her was falling still, and it was with the strength offered by the sharp pain in her heart, coupled with the brief pause in her contractions, that allowed her finally to shift. and yet she knew already that she was far too delayed, and the lump gave one final stir before falling motionless. 

and then came another, and she curled in on herself - careful not to crush the unbelievably precious bundle that would be known as @Mur - repeating the actions that she had performed thrice thus far. this one too she pulled close, hoping that it, unlike the others, would not grow cold once the warmth of her womb had left it. she could not think to check the sexes of her living two, nor could she bring herself to ensure that they well and truly drew breath. 

sunlight reached through the scant cover that the dying brush offered, burning against her half-shut gaze as her convulsions paused, and finally did she drift into pained slumber, unaware of the magnitude of the many things that had gone so terribly wrong.