Who's...What is this?

Morning peaks over the horizon and shines it's first rays on the cool ground at the Barrowspring. Many of it's inhabitants are already hard at work; putting in their day's share of maintaining the pristine land.
One of the hands, going about her work, hears a shrill noise in the distance. Curious, but still cautious she places hand on a pistol and moves towards the sound.

She comes to a stop in front of a small bundle as it lets out that shrill...cry. A child? Bending down, and removing a layer of cloth, it is a child.

Like always, when something isn't right in Barrowspring, she gives, a Holler.

At the sound of the fieldhand's shout, Emma jogged up. On the bitterly chill day, she was wrapped in handmade scarves and furs, looking every inch the wild woman that she often seemed to be. "What is it?" she inquired, wading through the snow as she approached. The moment she laid eyes on the child, instinct took over. The shaman nearly lunged for the small bundle, deeply alarmed to see the babe unattended and left to the cold. Cooing softly, soothingly, she wrapped the child up in her furs and cloaks. "It's alright," she crooned. Dark eyes flicked up to the fieldhand. "Check the borders," she recommended in a calm, firm voice. "See what you can find. Tell Josiah. If you see Hannah, tell her I need her." Wasting no time, she turned and began to walk back to the house. She assessed the infant's condition as she went, relying on her fair medical knowledge and only slightly uncovering the unexpected guest. The Dreamspeaker warmly kissed the baby's brow and sang softly to it.

The fieldhand nods and walks off towards the edges of Barrowspring.Afterwards she makes a circuit to try and find Hannah or Josiah.

As you walk back, the child seems to be calm in your arms and takes to your care and comforting ways quite well. You even get a warn, toothless smile.

The Dreamspeaker laughed softly, warmly at the infant's gormless grin. "Lookit you," she cooed, tapping the child on the nose. Hooks set into her heart while she walked, and she knew it. However, recollections filtered slowly back into her mind. Her pace slowed. Her eyes narrowed as she wracked her brain to remember details. ~Snake venom... milk...~ she thought, trying to line things up in her memories. ~Milk steeped in serpent's venom under the heat of iron ingots,~ the shaman recalled, brows furrowing as she stopped a few yards away from the house. ~And a balm made from aloe leaves, but I think that was to help new mothers.~ Her nose wrinkled faintly, and she shook her head dismissively. ~Aloe's not the dangerous component here anyway. Milk steeped in serpent's venom. Something to harm an infant or a new mother. I can't remember which...~ Frowning, she looked down at the baby in her arms.

Sighing faintly, she brought the child up closer to her face and rested her lips against the light peach fuzz atop its head. She began to hum a low, steady tone. Eyes closing, she gave herself over to her sharp sense of touch, delicately modulating the tone until she found one that seemed to resonate with the child in a way that made her nose tickle. Its little baby skull couldn't have been completely and permanently formed yet, so it was sort of like tuning a timpani, right? It was the assumption under which she operated, at any rate. Humming for a few minutes after she found the right pitch, Emma opened her eyes to Watch the Weaving, looking for any effects on the child.

Your humming causes the world around you to vibrate as it's colors become more vibrant. Things around the barrowspring come alive with the spark of magic. Looking at the child you see nothing that would mark it as from another world or ensorcelled.

Nothing. "Hm." It would be a lie to say that wasn't a relief. Kissing the child's forehead again, she approached the house and walked inside. "Hello, little one," she murmured in greeting to the house guardian. "Bren? Hannah?" she called out, sweeping from one place to another to grab some other blankets so that she might set the baby down on the dining room table while she ran a warm bath in the kitchen sink. "Josiah? Al?" The Dreamspeaker muddled out a little pile of blankets and pillows on the table and set the baby down. "I'll be right back," she promised softly, smiling. "... boop." Tapping the infant on the nose again, she drifted into the kitchen.

"Look at how clean the sink is!" she marveled quietly, praising the house guardian for its diligence and helpfulness. "Perfect place to wash a baby." She ran the water and tested it until it was a suitable temperature, then plugged the drain with a stopper and let it fill before going back to the child.

The child says nothing. Coming back to it, the surroundings seem to have it entranced. Looking around wide-eyed with a partially open mouth. When it sees you. clumsy, chubby baby arms and hand clap together. Another toothless smile greets you.

If anyone was around to see the look on Emma's face when the infant wiggled and stretched out toward her, it would be crystal clear that she was a goner. Her brows lifted. Her eyes widened. Her face broke into a wide grin, and she met the baby's hands with curled index fingers. "Here I am!" she exclaimed in a slight sing-song tone. Laughing, she leaned down and made gobbling noises at the chubby little fists. "... om nom nom nom nom. Om nom nom nom nom." She smiled and unwrapped the baby in the bundle to finally check the gender of the unexpected visitor (and look for the archetypal "Please watch over this baby" note that she sincerely hoped was attached somewhere) while she carried it over to the sink.

No note was to be found on the infant. A baby girl was was being carried to the sink for a nice warm bath.