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

an hour's rest was all that was allotted to her, before she woke with a soft cry, juxtaposed against the sharp crack of pain in her abdomen. 

and then again began the contractions, fierce and quick, and wide glassy gaze saw only the pale pelt of a stranger, the darker woman escaping her notice. a wide row of fangs, a gasping breath, and a pup spilled into the world in a mess of blood and pain. the collie's maw slipped open, grasping for breath that could not fill her lungs quickly enough. murdock had been right; without the help of others, the collie simply could not survive in the world she had not been made for. it was quite simply wrong for her to exist in this place where she had no claim, no birthright. the wild was for wild things, and nature smoothed out the mistakes and sharp edges always. 

her blood pooled quickly in the dirt, and the collie faded faster still. gaze slipped from the white girl, landing finally on the woman whose presence she'd been oblivious too as she'd purged the final child from her womb.  "mur-"  her final breath faded too quickly, and she could not live to tell the woman her lie, her plea. perhaps, in death, there would be him. perhaps, there would be forgiveness. perhaps, there would be endless plains and a softer time, and he would stand beside her. she would be happy.

yet there was only darkness.