You feel the dry dirt shift beneath your hooves as the sun beats down on your back. The air buzzes with heat and dust, and the low clang of metal gates rings in your ears. A shout cuts through the air — the rancher’s voice, loud and firm, urging you forward.

You don’t like the look of that trailer — dark inside, the floor slick with straw and the smell of other cattle heavy in the air. But there’s nowhere else to go. The other cows press around you, their bodies warm, their movements uncertain. A whip cracks behind you, not touching, but close enough to jolt your instincts.

The rancher waves his arms, calling again.