( Sarissa beams, and scoops up a little piglet with a splotch of black on its nose, balancing the device on a bale of hay so she can also grasp up a bottle of formula. The sow can feed them, but she's not in top shape and very tired, so— yeah. Picking up some slack. )

Thanks. The solid stuff'll mostly be for mum the next few days, but I reckon they'll be getting ready to move off just having milk, soon. Rosalind needs to get built up a bit, but. She's pretty run down.

( She glances down at the piglet she's bottlefeeding, and back to the device. ) What's all that mean? Jedan, dva, try— tri? Try? Trihhh?

( Languages: she's not good at them. )