in over my head

RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving "Pigs' milk," Ronin repeated, sounding incredulous but nodding quietly nonetheless. He'd much prefer to get (hopefully) a suitable wetnurse or continue trading for goats' milk. Less likely to be trampled (though more likely to be headbutted). Nodding and making a mental note about how much Aoife should be weighing, relief was obvious in the guildmaster that his daughter, at least, was as well as she could be given the circumstances. It was damned near miraculous, almost. That wasn't to say that she enjoyed being put in a hat, and she squalled accordingly as though that would convince Phoebe to take it away again. Ronin smirked to himself. "You can count on me," he assured her, nodding. "Food is easy enough for me to come by, and I can bring by firewood and leathers too. Thank you, though, for everything. Really. Now... how the hell do I get her back in this thing?" he motioned in the general direction of the sling.