Loss
One of the kids is a stillbirth.
It just happens sometimes, Coll tells her gently; while she sniffles over the damp, tiny thing, with its button eyes and thimble of a muzzle and wee hooves that will never press the earth; and Taran tries to remark that it's just a goat and only the traitorous roughness of his voice keeps her from shoving him through the rail fence. And Coll is serene, quiet and practical, but when he turns away with its baby-frailty cradled in his coarse hands, a single drop falls from his eye, spotting the dust at her feet.