Piotr's eyebrows raise, but he lets out a little huff that might've been a laugh from someone else, and drops to a crouch, arms draped loosely over his knees.

"Spirited little thing, aren't you?" He's really got no experience with babies -- no siblings, no children (yet), and hardly anyone in camp under the age of thirteen. But a small child, even a girl, with this much attitude is oddly endearing. "But this is no place for a child, I'm afraid. You're liable to get stepped on. Back to the village you go."

He'll find someone to take her back -- one of his Armsmen, perhaps, with a few additional errands to make the trip worthwhile.