Excerpt: Connected

The first puppy’s head slid out covered in blue-gray film and spotted with the blood of birth. The mother dog gave a low growl. Her eyes rolled back as she readied her body for the next surge of effort.
“There will be three,” said Starla, squatting, poised to spring if a puppy was turned or trapped or in distress. She could hear the heartbeat of each pup, thumping, thumping, thumping. Two of the heartbeats were strong. The other was out of rhythm, a wild racing like the beat of a hummingbird’s heart when taking flight in fear.
“Three? A pity. You hoped for more,” said the old woman kneeling next to her.
Starla placed two fingers on the mother dog’s side and summoned a vision of the womb. Yes, three. But one was frail.
A shaft of light from the window in the loft carried dust particles, and a fly buzzed in circles high above. The barn smelled rich with the pungent scents of hay, manure, and new life. In the meadow, Starla heard the whirring of a Monarch’s wings, a bottomless echoing; a metallic sound more urgent than the beating wings of common butterflies. Monarchs signaled luck. Starla listened to the distant whirring to determine if it had anything to do with the birth she was assisting. She decided it didn’t. Someone else’s luck, perhaps.