In the hills of the Bekaa Valley – as in swathes of Lebanon – death can come from the sky these days, at any moment.

Israel has been bombing the area through the day, with more 30 air strikes in just an hour.

Forty-six people are confirmed dead – and that toll is expected to rise.

Others are in critical condition in hospital, after Israeli attacks earlier this week.

Noor Mossawi is among them. The six-year-old is lying unconscious in a paediatric intensive care unit, in Rayak Hospital, with bandages wrapped around her fractured skull.

Her mother Rima is sitting by her bedside, holding a copy of the Quran and praying.

She tells us her daughter is very bright and very sociable.

“She creates such a fun atmosphere at home. The house feels empty when she’s not around. She loves meeting new people.”

All that changed last Monday, with an Israeli strike.

She shows us another video of her daughter – this time praying, shortly before the attack.

“I was soothing her, telling her not to be afraid, that nothing would happen. She was calling on God and the prophets for help,” Rima says.

As the bombing was getting closer, Rima was hunkering by her front door with Noor and her twin brother Mohammed.

“We weren’t brave enough to go inside,” she says, “because we thought the building would collapse on us if it was hit.

“When it got more intense, I picked up Noor and her brother and was about to take them in, but the missile was much faster than I was.”

That missile left Mohammed lightly wounded, and Noor fighting for her life.

As we speak, suddenly there is danger overhead. We hear a plane, and then an explosion which rattles the windows and knocks out the power for a few seconds.

It’s another air strike. Rima barely reacts.

Noor’s father Abdallah comes to visit, and is burning with rage.

“Please film my child,” he says.

“She doesn’t know what weapons are. She doesn’t know how to fight. She was playing at home when the bombing started. They [Israel] wanted to terrorise the people and get them to flee.”

Israel says its strikes are targeting Hezbollah sites, including weapons stores and ammunition dumps.

Abdallah begs to differ.

“We have nothing to do with weapons. I am not involved with the resistance [Hezbollah]. But now I wish I was so that I could protect my children,” he tells us.

Minutes later, a few floors down, sirens wail as an ambulance brings in wounded from the latest strike.

Medical staff are rushing back and forward. The emergency department fills with tension. There are angry shouts, and shocked friends and relatives. We are asked to stop filming.

The hospital has admitted 400 casualties of Israeli strikes since Monday – all civilians – according to Dr Basil Abdallah, the medical director.

Of those, more than 100 have died, and several families had lost more than one person.

Dr Abdallah tells us there is trauma among the staff, as well as the patients.

“Seeing children bombed, seeing elderly patients and women bombed, it’s difficult,” he says. “Most of the nurses and the doctors are depressed. We have emotions. We are human.”

Most of the staff remain at the hospital around the clock as it is too dangerous to risk the journey home.

Israel is striking far and wide in Lebanon. There’s no-one to stop it.

For now, Hezbollah is putting up a limited fight, firing rockets across the border.

Its backer, Iran, is remaining on the sidelines.

Dr Abdallah is already worried about running out of drugs and essential supplies.

He fears this will be a long war.