Sunbeam Lair calling out mayday

Where his golden sister received her baptism in mother's blood and mother's love, poor little Earp was awash in the terror of gods and the stench of death.
He did not mind.
He was a faceless boy for now, without eyes or ears to behold the horrors of his birth. Even if he could, he would not have known fear. This was his world, in the only colors he would ever know:
Small gods small gods small gods
If Lonesome Dove looked quite closely, she might have seen something reminiscent of a smile twitching at the boy's small mouth. He fell into sleep. He dreamed of that red smell and that pale silvered feeling.