She tried hard to keep track of the days but they all blended into a blur. They would trudge through the woods for hours. Hunt. Build a fire. Cook. Then sit wordlessly, each a slave to the isolation of their own thoughts. She was going to go crazy if she had to spend the rest of her life staring into a fire with an unresponsive companion. The frustrating thing was, she thought Daryl at least liked her as a friend. Back at the prison he used to say hello, and ask how's Lil' Ass Kicker? Whenever he'd go on runs he always remembered to bring her something special. Once it was a little bottle of nail polish. She'd done her nails so he'd know she appreciated it. Another time hair ties that weren't rubber bands. Once he brought her a whole box of new pens. Another time a book. He never said much then either, but at least there was expression in his face as he'd slip some little trinket into her hand. He said it was 'cause she never got to pick out nothin' for herself. Because she was always tending Judith at the prison. This man with her now, was so tightly walled up that she could barely get a word out of him even if she asked a direct question. The prison had never confined him, but he had built his own prison now that it was gone.