Shadewood for she is now the stranger

Senseless and unnamed, the third born rests at the spigot of Themis, his altar.

He had been born squealing -- announcing his arrival in the world as loudly as he  could -- but now that the gremlin had been sated, he lay milk-drunk and quiet in the crook of his mother's belly. The boy would remain unconscious through any forcible readjusting of his position or any shifting of his siblings beside him; his mouth slack, with dribbles of his drink pooled against his blunt snout. If it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of his tongue-slicked body, he might have appeared lifeless.

To further prove otherwise, he produced a hiccup or two as he slept. His compliments to the chef.