Carol is on watch early Friday afternoon when the pony express thunders through the gates of the Kingdom. She comes down from the platform, telling her watch partner that she's quitting her shift ten minutes early. The man shrugs.
"I'll take care of delivering those," she tells Ellen as the Oceanside woman draws the letters from her satchel. "You get your horse tended to and have something to eat."
Carol walks towards the courtyard, paging through the envelopes. On top is a letter from Enid to Liam. She flips that envelope behind the next to find one from Tara to Dianne. To her surprise and amusement, the next envelope is addressed from Maggie to Roland. She wonders if that's business related or personal. She's guessing personal, because there's also one from Maggie to Ezekiel, which should cover any business. Maybe Roland sent something Maggie's way, and she's just politely replying. Or maybe the man actually has a chance. Of course, their communication could also pertain to plans for Liam and Enid's wedding.
She comes across an envelope addressed from Jesus to his man at Oceanside. Somehow, that got mixed in with the Hilltop mail, and she'll have to return it to the satchel. Next is a letter to Olivia from Judith. Given that Judith isn't old enough to be writing, Carol suspects someone has been taking dictation.
There are only two more envelopes to go. When she flips Judith's letter to the back, she hopes to see Daryl's handwriting on the outside of the next envelope, but it's a letter to Khalid. From Rostia no less. Not realizing she's holding her breath, Carol lifts Rosita's envelope to look at the last letter in the stack. Form Daryl Dixon, the return address section reads. Platform Tent 2, Hilltop. Carol smiles.
She drops off the other letters quickly. She's crouched down and about to slip Khalid's under his trailer door when it abruptly flies open. He stands with rapier drawn and looks down at her. She rises cautiously and takes a step back, the envelope still in her hand. "Mail delivery," she says.
"Oh. I thought it was that damn raccoon." He sheathes his rapier.
"In the afternoon?"
He shrugs and takes the envelope and a dimple breaks out on his brown-skinned cheek. "Well damn. She actually wrote back." He pinches the envelope and sighs. "One page."
"Happy reading," Carol tells him, and soon she's in her own trailer with her feet up on the coffee table and Daryl's envelope ripped impatiently open.
Dear Carol,
Flannagan, huh? You Irish?
Listen, abuot Henry - I know you got your job to do as a mama.
And your a good mama.
But Henry's got to fight.
He don't, they'll eat him alive.
So don't be too hard on him when he dose.
Just the way boys are.
If he can hold his own, he'll be all rite.
He's a good kid. Better since you got hold of him.
Used to be a little dumbass. Fixing to be a man soon.
Won't need you at the Kingdom one day.
No you don't want to hear that. But its true.
You've done good by him. That's why he won't need you one day.
Not much to report here.
Got me a buck. 10 pointer. And a doe. Smoking them for winter.
Building that bike. Hope you got me my bacon graese.
I'll have to refine it.
Little Ass Kicker made me play Candy Land 5 times this week.
I hate that damn game.
Been thinking abuot you.
About licking my vanilla ice cream all up.
Yours Truly,
Daryl
Carol smiles and tucks the first page of the letter behind the second page. On the second page, he's drawn a heart. Through the heart is an arrow. He's drawn an arrow to the arrow and written – Metal crossbow bolt. This kind don't bend. And inside the heart, he's written – Daryl + Carol.
Carol laughs, sniffs, and reads the letter again.
[*]
At the Friday evening gathering of the Advisors in the school library, where Ezekiel and his council sit around a wooden, circular table, Carol proposes giving Daryl two pounds of the bacon grease she's held aside.
"Don't we need that for cooking?" Nabila asks.
"Or to make candles?" Jerry asks. "After it's not edible anymore?"
"I sure could use it for lube," Roland says. "Khalid told me the pullies for the bucket in the southwest well are sticking."
"It would just be two pounds," Carol insists. "And he's bringing an entire bottle of whiskey in exchange." She doesn't yet offer up her bottle, which still sits mostly full on her desk, but she will if need be.
"I wouldn't mind a nip of whiskey," Dianne admits.
"I don't understand why anyone values alcohol," Nabila says. "It has no nutritional value."
"It does have medical uses," Jerry tells her.
"I don't think you were medicating yourself with that mead last night," she replies with a raised eyebrow.
He grins. "Hey, last night was my Friday night! I had today off from hunting."
Nabila shakes her head.
"It would be for the purpose of scientific experimentation," Carol insists. "If Daryl makes a breakthrough on this biofuel, if he actually builds a bike that can run on it, that could have ramifications for the future of all our communities."
Roland rolls his blue plastic chair closer to the table and lays an arm down. "No offense intended, Carol, but I wasn't aware Daryl had a background in the sciences."
"He doesn't. But he's clever. He's tinkered with bikes his entire life. And he has Eugene to consult."
"Eugene?" Roland asks. "I heard he pulled the wool over everyone's eyes, that he doesn't really know anything. That he pretended to be a scientist to survive."
"He did pretend to be a scientist to survive," Carol admits. "But he does know some things. And he's been teaching himself more." She looks around the table. "Come on. It's just two pounds. If it doesn't work, we'll still learn from it."
"All in favor of trading two pounds of bacon grease to Daryl Dixon for a bottle of whiskey?" Ezekiel asks.
Grinning, Jerry raises his hand. Dianne follows, and of course Carol. Nabila sighs. Then she flicks her wrist up. "I'm just voting for young love," she says with a smile cast in Carol's direction.
"Roland?" Ezekiel asks. "You still have objections?"
"Grease has more practical uses for us than whiskey. But…if something does come of it..." Slowly, he raises his hand.
[*]
Daryl waits as long as he can to go in the mansion and get Little Ass Kicker for their Sunday morning journey to the Kingdom. He busies himself by packing and repacking his bag, counting his arrows, checking his handgun, sliding out the magazine, ejecting the bullets, counting them, and then putting them back in.
And still the sun hasn't risen.
So he goes to the barn to saddle the horse he'll be taking. A lantern glows inside, because the stable boy – Jose, who is about fifteen – has already begun his morning work. The young man helps Daryl to prepare the horse. "You have a safe journey, sir," Jose says.
Daryl still isn't fully accustomed to all the young men who seem to admire him and call him sir, but he doesn't correct them when they do it. He doesn't say, "Just call me Daryl." Because, secretly, he likes it.
Patrick was the first person in his life to ever call him sir, and the prison was the first place he ever began to believe that he might be able to make a home among others. But the Hilltop was the place where he did it.
Here, at the Hilltop, he's both a hunter and a mentor, a Councilman and a godfather. In Tara and Rosita and Aaron, he has easy friendships like he hasn't had since he was a young child, before his father's beatings made him climb into himself. Here, he remembers the boy he used to be, and the wild hopes he used to have.
He inhales the smoky scent of his camp as he leads the horse out of the stable and takes in the familiar sight of the tents and trailers that litter the earth between the mansion and the barns. Beyond these human habitations spread acres and acres of cropland, ending at a fence behind which the Virginia pines grow proud and tall. Through the pines rush the fresh waters of a winding stream. He loves the rustic unpretentiousness of this place.
It would be perfect, if only Carol lived here.
[*]
Before the sun begins to rise, Carol sits up in bed, turns up the oil in her lamp, and drops a match inside, until all the glass is glowing with flame. Then she makes her bed. She goes to her pantry desk, pours fresh water from blue storage drums into her kettle, and sets it on the wood stove Roland installed for her.
While she's waiting for the kettle to boil, she draws out one of Nabila's herbal tea bags and rests it inside a ceramic mug. Then she takes down a single whiskey glass and puts it right next to the bottle she hasn't touched since Daryl was here last week. He told her to trade it for whatever she wanted, but she wants him to have something to sip when they're sitting on her loveseat tonight. She glances with eager anticipation at the coffee table and imagines his feet up on it and his arm around her.
[*]
Daryl leaves Snowball tied to the porch railing of the mansion before he eases quietly through its front door and creeps to Aaron's room. But when he gets there, a half hour earlier than he's supposed to, Judith's already dressed and standing with her overnight pack on and her stuffed bunny held tightly against her chest. Michonne gave her that bunny before the War with the Whisperers.
Gracie still slumbers on the bottom of the trundle bed, and Aaron sits on his cot looking tired and harried. "She's been up for an hour," he says. "Take her already!"
"Put Cottontail in yer pack," Daryl tells Judith as he shuts the door to Aaron's bedroom behind them.
"But I want to carry him."
"Don't wanna lose 'em. Go on now. Put 'em in yer pack. He'll be safe there."
[*]
Carol settles into a folding deck chair on the porch of her little trailer to watch the sun rise, which she predicts will happen in about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, the sky is a hazy purple, and the steam rising from her tea cup curls into gray ribbons in the early morning darkness.
Khalid steps out of his trailer across the way and dumps the dirty water from his ceramic basin over his porch railing and onto the dry gravelly earth below. "Morning, Carol."
"Good morning," she says. "You're up early."
"I could say the same for you, though I suppose you have a reason."
Carol knows that when Khalid wrote Rosita, he asked her two things – if she would come with Daryl this Sunday, and if he could stay in her RV when he came for the wedding next Saturday. And Carol also knows that when Rosita wrote back she said yes to the second question, but no to the first. Khalid was sorely disappointed. "Come watch the sunrise with me?" she asks sympathetically. "Have a cup of tea?"
Khalid takes her up on the offer, bringing his own deck chair over and situating it alongside hers while she goes inside to pour him a cup from the still warm kettle.
A half hour later, their tea cups are empty, and the sky is aglow with light. Khalid stands, leaves his cup on the rail, and folds up his chair. "I have a well to finish digging. Thank you for the tea, Carol."
Just after Khalid leaves, Roland thunders by on horseback, shouting, "Morning, Carol!" as he passes. Some people go for an early morning jog. He goes for an early morning ride.
To Carol's right the trailer door creaks open, and one of the boys – Jake – steps out and stretches and yawns. Henry's familiar laugh drifts out from somewhere inside the trailer, followed by Matt's. To Carol's left, a woman steps out of her trailer and waters the potted herbs attached to her porch railing. "Good morning, Carol!" she calls and waves. Her husband slides out the door behind her, wraps her up from behind, and kisses her cheek, which makes her giggle. In the distance, from the direction of the chicken coop, comes the cock-a-doodle-doo of the rooster.
The Kingdom is stirring. The air between its fences fills with the sweet noise of life. Carol thinks how much she loves this place, with its relaxed people, its gentle manners, and its cheerful laughter - a home so different from the tense world she once shared with Ed – a place where everyone knows her name and respects her contributions – a place where she's reminded of the optimistic young girl she used to be and of the woman she used to dream of becoming.
It would be perfect, if only Daryl lived here.