The Sunspire I am hanging in the bathroom at the biggest party of the fall

Three had (presumably) been christened with a name, Wisteria, in the hours following her birth. Since debuting, she caught only brief winks of sleep and the rest of the time she spent wailing for no particular reason. Every waking hour heralded a new expression of Wisteria's displeasure with the ongoing overstimulation. By the end of the second day her throat was sore from intermittent screeches and she quieted down at last, if only to save herself the continued grating at the back of her mouth.

Despite all this, she ate heartily, kneading at her mother's belly alongside her other family members. That was where she was presently, guzzling greedily and pressing her feet insistently into the side of whichever sibling was closest to her.