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A voice overhead bade his head to rise a touch, and his nose wiggled with the effort of drinking in the scent he did not know. It was not like mother's smell or Astyanax' and that difference led to a small recoil. A wrinkling of the face. All he could find here was cold dust, the stale smell of mother's blood, and this warm foreign body. Glaucos was cold and hungry here, and mother was not listening to his tiny pleas for attention — so the new body, this sharp-boned cyclops, would have to suffice. He paddled his way closer to Merrick and attempted to remedy his ailments by festooning himself across a nearby foot, and was content enough afterwards to fall silent.