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Being hauled from one den to the next was an experience he hoped to never have again. It had been warm in the first one, and comforting, familiar with the smell of Ikkalrok; even when soaking in a puddle of her spilled blood Glaucos had felt more at-home than he did here.

Had anyone even bothered to clean his mother's blood from his belly? He was tucked in to the dirt beside Astyanax thereafter, dropped more like it, and he'd wriggled until sleep had taken him. When he woke next the boy's mind was empty.

He mewled for his mother, unfurled his little flipper limbs with a punch to his brother's cheek, and with a few sharp chirrups began to scour the cold dirt for anything familiar.