James?

The ethereal reverberation of meat on slabstone. Gluttonous panting.

What…

Gasp.

Guh… What is it?

The wail of a starving infant splits the sacred air. Startled silence. Glass cracks on an infinitesimal level.

Oh. ****.

James, it wasn’t here a minute ago. It’s like it came out of the ******* stonework.

Yeah. I know.

Sigh. Wail.

It sounds hungry.

We don’t have any food.

I know.

Cloying limpet silence. The tightening of skin across barren cheekbones.

******, we can’t just leave it here.

It’ll die of hunger either way. I don’t even know what they eat.

James, I am not killing-

****, dude, neither am I.

The infant champs on air and draws rasping breaths.

We taking it with us, then?

******* hell. Yes.

What’ll we call it?

The rustle of papery cloth on a slabstone altar.

Him. It’s a he.

What’ll we call him, then?*

Silence. A guttural wail.

Edward. That’ll do for now.