[ The calf, still honking away, doesn't seem to know what to do with the offered bowl—perhaps more accurately, she doesn't even really seem to notice it at all, still swinging her head this way and that even as she stays otherwise immobilized against Vasiliy's chest. It would seem she's still searching for her mother.
Vasiliy sets the little thing—only about the size of one of the little bourgeois dogs if its legs were longer—down in the nest Konstantin's arranged for her by the fireplace; she stays where he's placed her, and he's not sure whether that means she's enjoying the warmth of the fire or... weak, because she hasn't fed.
She probably at least had the first milk from her mother, but she doesn't look more than a few days old. She's so... fragile, and it's a wonder that anything like that could survive in a place like this, even without being abandoned by its parent.
It occurs to him then that the smell of the milk probably won't be enough; she's used to looking for a teat. They really need a bottle, but they certainly haven't turned up any baby bottles around here, and it's a long walk across town to get to the general store. He can try to get her to recognize what it is, though—so that's what he does, dipping his fingertip into the milk and then smearing it on the lips and in the mouth of a very confused reindeer calf who begins to frenetically suckle at his finger a moment later.
He almost pushes her away by reflex but stops himself just in time—maybe if she's already drinking they can hold the milk up to her mouth at just the right time or something. ]
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Vasiliy sets the little thing—only about the size of one of the little bourgeois dogs if its legs were longer—down in the nest Konstantin's arranged for her by the fireplace; she stays where he's placed her, and he's not sure whether that means she's enjoying the warmth of the fire or... weak, because she hasn't fed.
She probably at least had the first milk from her mother, but she doesn't look more than a few days old. She's so... fragile, and it's a wonder that anything like that could survive in a place like this, even without being abandoned by its parent.
It occurs to him then that the smell of the milk probably won't be enough; she's used to looking for a teat. They really need a bottle, but they certainly haven't turned up any baby bottles around here, and it's a long walk across town to get to the general store. He can try to get her to recognize what it is, though—so that's what he does, dipping his fingertip into the milk and then smearing it on the lips and in the mouth of a very confused reindeer calf who begins to frenetically suckle at his finger a moment later.
He almost pushes her away by reflex but stops himself just in time—maybe if she's already drinking they can hold the milk up to her mouth at just the right time or something. ]
Kostya—!
[ The bowl, please... ]