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Murren was busy with chores at the farm. She'd gotten everyone fed and was now busy reorganizing the store room in one of the barns, which entailed moving heavy bags of feed that were nearly as large as she was. She supposedly had a worker--someone who'd been hired on before she bought the place--but she'd never seen him and suspected he may have been eaten by the cows. Couldn't trust those damn cows. She knew they tried to look all cute and dumb but she grew up on a dairy farm so she totally knew better.

She eyed the cow pasture suspiciously, wondering if she should go look for bones or something.

Well...maybe later. She still had to get the place cleaned up. It really was in a state of complete disarray and it needed to be swept out and the cobwebs brushed down and--

"Ah---AHCOO!" Ugh. Murren wiped at her nose. Maybe she should take a break for tea and get back to this in a bit. As she pondered this, one of the cats wandered in and started rubbing up against her legs, nearly tripping her up as she carried a huge feed sack to the other side of the room. Stumbling forward, Murren felt something soft beneath and boot and figured it was the cat's foot when the poor thing yowled and went to cower on the other side of the room. She dropped the feed bag and hurried over to pick it up, despite the baleful glare it was leveling at her.

"Och, yer poor thin,'" she said, cradling it as she carried it out of the room. "Did Ah hurt yer, m'bairn? Yer should know better than ter walk around' under mah feet."

"Och yer poor thin,'" Murren was crooning as she carried the cat out of the barn, only to nearly run into a bumbling giant that was standing out there looking a bit out of place. Murren peered up at him in amazing because gosh, but he was tall! Like a ruddy blonde beanstalk!

"'allo John," Murren said, wondering where she'd heard the name before. Well, other than everywhere, of course, because John was a pretty common name and she'd met hundreds of them but there was something about meeting a John at the farm that ave her a long pause before she realized he was on the payroll! Probably. There was a John on the payroll and this person was John and he was dressed like someone would dress when they worked at a farm so she was going to assume he was her employee. "'ee's fine, Ah thin'--'ee jus' got under mah feet an' Ah stepped on 'im. But 'ee's fine."

"Ah'm Murren. Murren MacMahan. Jus' bought up this place. Are yer th' John tha' werks 'ere? Coz Ah've no' met tha' John yet so if'n yer 'im, et's nice ter meet yer."

Murren had been on her way out anyway, when she heard John knocking and calling to her through the door. She threw the door open as she pulled on her coat and gloves. "Wot?" she asked, looking up at him as she stumbled past him, buttoning up the coat. "Wot's she doin' now? Es she layin' on 'er side? Did yer check ter see if'n yer can see th' lambs yet?"

She didn't wait for him as she clambered down the steps and headed to the barn. She knew John would follow after her like he always did. She'd not been expecting babies for another week yet so it was a little early--but that shouldn't be a problem. It wasn't horribly early and she'd seen ewes go under or over by a week plenty of times. Still, it was bloody cold and even with her inside, in a heated area, Murren wanted to make sure everything was going well. She definitely didn't want to lose any lambs this winter--and she had a feeling they were going to get two.

"Well, come on!" she called, waving for John to follow. "Yer gonna 'elp out aren't yer? E'en if'n yer a man, Ah don' think she'll care!" She wasn't sure if he'd ever actually helped with an animal birth before. If not, this was definitely going to be fun.

"Et's fine!" Murren said, waving a hand to shush him because he always fretted so and if he didn't shush, she'd end up clipping the back of his head (she could reach it if she stood on her toes!) or trying to hug the poor man just to comfort him a little. He was such a nervous little thing. "Yer came an' got me so et's fine."

"An' don' worry if'n this is yer firs' time. Coz there's no' much ter do, really, but keep an eye on 'er. If'n et looks like thin's are goin' the way they should, then yer jus' stand back and let nature take et's course, if'n yer follow? Problem is yer can' always tell when somethin's goin' ter go awry so et's good ter stay close an' keep an eye on thin's so yer can intervene quick-like if'n yer need ter."

She hurried into the barn, immediately heading toward the pained bleating. Oh goodness, she looked just miserable, didn't she? Then again, Murren figured it was miserable to squish out babies naturally and with no ones hand to squeeze until it broke, and no doctors to yell at and such. That's why she was glad she wasn't born a sheep! Well, and she figured all that wool was just outright itchy!

"John, there's a box in th' store room wit' wot we'll need ter check 'er out and such. Would yer be a lo'e and go get et fer me?" Murren said as she hopped in the stall with the ewe and stroked her head. "Ah know, yer poor dear. And th' father's just runnin' out lookin' at th' other lasses wit' no' a care in the world, isn't he? Et's arright, m'bairn. Yer've go' John an' me an' 'e'll be a good daddy fer yer little ones! Sweet as a wee lamb 'imself, 'ee is." she said, rambling herself into silliness pretty quickly as she waited for John to get the box of supplies.

She wondered if, after the lambs were born, she could talk John into a drink or five in celebration...

"Well, ets feet are out," Murren said. "So tha's a good sign. Et means we don' 'ave ter do much fer this one. But Ah thin' she's carryin' twins, yer know? We'll 'ave ter wait an' see. Don' yer wanna come 'ave a look?" she asked, moving aside so he could join her. "Et's the 'ole miracle o' life an' all that!"

Well, it was a miracle, and it was fascinating, but even Murren had to admit it was gross and smelly, too. She was glad Human women didn't clean off their babies with their tongues because...ew. Animals really needed to develop better hygenic skills--like the ability to use soap.

"John--wot did yer do 'ere at th' farm b'fore Ah bought et?" she asked, more to make conversation than anything else. "Et must 'ave been awfully lonely if'n yer were 'ere by yerself. An did yer 'andle all the birthin' o' baby animals yerself? Et woz a lot o' work wozn' et?"

"Och, well yer know," Murren said. "Ah grew oop on a farm in the 'ighlands an' et woz all Ah ever knew fer mah 'ole life. Et wozn' bad at all but then when mah paren's died Ah didn' thin' Ah could keep th' farm. An' so Ah sold et. An' Ah woz jus' goin' ter school an' gettin' mah education coz tha's wot mah mum always wanted. Bu'Ah'd only e'er li'ed on a farm wit' animals out mah arse and e'erywhere else so et woz a bit strange not ter be on a farm. Ah guess et woz jus' lonely no' ter be takin' care o' other creatures? So Ah decided Ah should buy up a new farm bu' Ah didn' thin' Ah could go back 'ome coz there woz too many mem'ries."

As Murren spoke, the ewe had nearly entirely expelled the first lamb and since Murren was sure there was another, she had wriggled a pair of latex gloves on so she could help with the last bit so Annie could conserve energy. As soon as the lamb was out, Murren grabbed one of the towels out of the bin and started to clean it up--again, so the ewe could save some energy. Especially since she was still in labor and might not be able to properly lick it off. And since it was so cold out, hypothermia was a real concern. Even in the heated barn.

In any case, she had to disinfect the naval stump--and give it a trim since it was a bit too long.

"Ah ne'er thought Ah'd be li'in' on an island like this one but Ah kinda like it." She gave John a wide smile as she cleaned the lamb. "Et's got a lot o' nice people 'ere an Ah don' thin' Ah could ask fer a better worker, if'n yer follow me."

Murren was still holding onto the first lamb so Anne could finish up, you know, popping out the second one without having the first one nibbling at her underside for a morning snack, when she heard John make a weird sound--a sound that seemed vaguely disgusted. She didn't think she'd said anything disgusting so she shot him a worried look because that was not at all a John-like sound to make. He was always so happy and cheerful and oh dear, he looked rather pale, didn't he.

"John, are yer--" she didn't quite get her query all the way out before his eyes rolled back and he flopped over. Now, Murren loved animals--she really did. They were cute and fluffy and even if some were a bit temperamental, they weren't all snide and nasty like people could be. They were just fun, pleasant things to work with and she would never, ever intentionally hurt an animal unless it was some dangerous predator (then it was fair game). But people were just loads more important than animals. Even the snide, nasty ones--much less the ones she actually liked. So when John, by all appearance, died right then and there, Murren very nearly tossed the newly born lamb over her shoulder in her haste to get to him and shake the life back into him.

Fortunately she realized at the last minute that it was kind of a bad idea and would probably result in a very dead lamb, so she set it down (fortunately Anne was very efficient at giving birth and had already squeezed out the second little guy and was wearily licking him down so Murren didn't worry too much about her). As soon as the lamb was tottering off to its mother, Murren pulled off her latex gloves and scrambled to John's side. "John! John! Are yer ali'e?" she asked, giving him a bit of a shake. According to instinct and all the movies she'd ever seen, she tore his coat open and laid her head on his chest to see if he was breathing and having a heartbeat and all the things that living people do. Oh! She heard breathing and heartbeats! This was good! This was very, very good. Propping herself up on her hands as she looked down at him worriedly, Murren gave his cheek a light slap to try to bring him around. Had he just fainted? Lord, men were so useless when any female was giving birth weren't they?

It was sort of adorable and silly, really. She kept patting his cheek, saying his name, wondering if she should get him some water or something. What if he got cold though? What if hypothermia set in! Maybe she should strip down and use her body heat to keep him warm! Then again, it had never made much sense that you had to strip down to get warmer than you already were with clothes on. Hm. Well, there were the horse blankets. They were thick and she had just washed them...

Murren stood and made an effort to straighten John out a bit (Lord, the man was tall and heavy! Silly giant!) before she left him there with Anne and the lambs so she could grab a few (or ten) horse blankets for him so he wouldn't die of cold and exposure while passed out in the sheep pen!