[She kind of scoffs, as if the idea of dying from cold is preposterous. However: one of her fingers is still stinging where one of these small creatures sank its tiny, needle-sharp fangs into her, and her bare arms have been subjected to a number of scratches from their newly-grown claws. They're distastefully tiny, but she kind of grudgingly respects them and their capacity to wound things.]

Alright, I guess I can make sure a few of them don't die. Not like it's a worse use of my time than anything else I'm supposed to be doing on this ship.