It took only a few pumps for the bucket to be filled. Wiping her forehead, Epsilon picked it up, hefting it into a position best suitable for not letting the contents slosh out and onto the thirsty soil at her feet. She would probably have to go out again a few more times- it wasn’t like they could just switch on a tap and, bippity boppity, they had running water at their fingertips- but Caroline wasn’t exactly strong enough to pump yet, and it wasn’t a backbreaking task. It felt good, too. Nothing to focus on but the feel of metal clasped in her hands, the satisfaction in filling up the bucket, pump by pump.

She was toting the water back inside when she heard the faint sounds of...something. Brows arching, Epsilon turned. There, over the hills, she could make out two distant figures approaching. Blurs, really. She watched for a moment, before shifting the bucket to one arm, putting her fingers to her mouth, and letting out the call of a blackbird. It sounded out into the (relatively) empty clearing, echoing faintly. 

There was a pause, then from inside the house, a quiet, clumsy sort of imitation of a loon’s cry.

Ah, Caroline. 

Epsilon opened the door of the house just enough to push the water inside, and close it back up again. Delivery made, she leaned against the stone wall of the shack. Her fingers fished around in her pocket for her cigs, eventually finding them along with a battered old lighter. Say what you would about Erubesco and its whole lot, but they made some damn good smokes. She lit one up and brought it to her lips as she watched the figures approach, taking in a leisurely drag. 

If she wasn’t keeping an ear out for them, she wouldn’t have even noticed the whispering of little footsteps within the house, darting to and fro. 

[@Rabidporcupine][@CommisarJhon]