Watering the animals every day was perhaps more of a chore here than it was at the compound, not to mention something that brought about a strange level of guilt, using such large rations of the most valuable of resources for livestock. She was beginning to wonder if Rodeo hadn't been right in his hope for turning the cows into dinner, though as long as he was authorizing them to stay alive Willa wasn't going to be the one to condemn them. And so, it was back and forth day after day from the ration station to the hangar where they were stabled, lugging the sky blue plastic jugs to empty into the trough. They were hungry, but they weren't going to die yet.
Willa stopped when she heard someone call out for her -- she wasn't expressly fond of being known as the cow lady but there was nothing to do about it -- shading her eyes until she spotted him. Yet another burly giant of a man, this one shirtless and more heavily bearded. Was there a minimum weight requirement for men in this camp? Down went the forty pounds of water and Willa stood, staring back at him until he started making his way to her. "To the cows," she retorted, kicking the five gallon jug with her boot as an explanation for the why. Once he was near enough she put out her hand in introduction - "Willa."