The firelit space inside the teepee was gone. But if he tried hard, Daryl could still hear and smell the small campfire that was dying near his feet somewhere far away from the meadow he was standing in now. The grass was bright green and damp with morning dew under his bare feet. He still held Rowan's hand in his, but she looked different from how she had in the tent. Her hair was twisted into two long thick braids that hung down on either side of her head. The bruises Pete had given her were gone, along with all the pain and worry that she often wore plainly on her face. She was dressed in the same soft suede vest, but with it she had on a long fringed skirt made from the same material.

You look different too.

She had not moved her lips, but he could hear her words in his mind just like she had spoken them aloud. He looked down at himself. His hands. All the scars and marks it had taken him half a lifetime to acquire were missing.

Your hair is shorter too. And you don't have any hair on your face.

Daryl reached up to feel his hair. It was shorter, more like the way he wore it before the turn. He smiled as he rubbed his freshly shaved face. He liked the way he looked, more like his normal self. But he liked the way Rowan looked even more. She was a least a good fifteen pounds heavier and dressed like some kind of indian princess. When he went to tell her, Daryl found his mouth only opened and closed, no words came out. The feeling panicked him a little.

I can hear you. Just think of what you want to say.

You look beautiful.

Rowan smiled and then she laughed. He didn't hear it as much as he felt it. Her laughter was like a tickle that started at his toes and climbed all the way up to the little hairs on the back of his neck. Whatever place they were in, he could not only feel his emotions, he could taste them as well. And her happiness tasted like cold whiskey over ice. Whiskey and honey. She must have heard what he was thinking because she laughed again.

Rowan turned her head away from him and Daryl followed her gaze. In front of them was the large black wolf he had seen so many times in his dreams. It had Rowan's green eyes and her crystal necklace around it's neck. Next to the wolf was the last person that Daryl was not expecting to see. His brother. Merle was himself, but not as Daryl remembered last seeing him. He was years younger, dressed in his military uniform like he had been the time he came to see Daryl after he finished basic training. Daryl had been in absolute awe of him, dressed up like he was something special. Back then Daryl thought Merle hung the moon. He could tell Rowan was able to see Merle just as clearly as Daryl could.

Is that your spirit guide? He's very handsome.

I'm not sure I like being able to read your mind.

Rowan tickled him with her laughter again.

He looks like you.

That made Daryl smile and he pulled Rowan close against his side and kissed her. The kiss felt different, but familiar at the same time. And she tasted like her happiness had tasted, only sweeter. For a moment, Daryl forgot about his brother and the large black wolf.

"I see you found yourself a pretty little squaw," Merle said. His words rang out clearly across the meadow. Daryl pulled away from Rowan, feeling irritated. He couldn't talk, but his brother got to run his big mouth. That did not seem fair.

You're my guardian angel?

"Who the fuck were you expecting?"

I dunno. Someone a little more angelic.

Merle laughed at that. And his laughter was pure, unlike the mean spirited sort the man had been prone to in real life, laughing only when it was at someone else's expense. His laughter mingled with Rowan's inside Daryl's mind and he was distracted for a moment at the beauty of the noise and the way he could feel it and hear it at the same time. When he looked down, Rowan's hand was gone from his and she was standing a few feet away. Merle had her hand in his, lifting the back of her tattoed palm to his lips.

"Hope you don't mind sweetheart, got a few things to discuss with little brother here," he told her. Rowan nodded.

I don't mind at all.

She pulled her hand back from Merle's grasp and moved towards the giant wolf. It seemed to grow even larger when she touched it. Daryl watched as she swung one leg over it's back, riding it like one would ride a horse. She clung to the fur on it's back and smiled at him.

I love you.

Then in cloud of silver black smoke she was gone. Daryl charged forward, the grass under his feet warm in the spot that Rowan and the wolf had been sitting just a few moments before. He turned in a circle, looking for her and hoping she would reappear as quickly as she had vanished. Like when she hugged him in the tent, something about her voice felt like a goodbye.

"I like that one," Merle announced, "I bet she's a real wildcat in the sack."

Keep you fucking opinions about her to yourself and tell me what the fuck you want.

"Not a very polite way to talk to the person that's been watching over your sorry ass."Merle crossed his arms and gave Daryl a little smirk. How young he looked was distracting, his teeth straight and white and his dark curls cut close to the head in the military cut that he favored for the rest of his life. Daryl was not used to feeling like an old man next to his brother. And he had forgotten how strong Merle used to look, before the drugs took him. Merle was looking at him expectantly.

What do you want Merle?

"What I want is to know what the hell you are doing playing around getting high in some tent when you should be out there kicking the shit out of the assholes that are looking to snatch up your woman." The question hit Daryl in the gut like a hard kick. He tasted his own anger, and it was more bitter than the tea he drank to get here. He felt like he was chewing on a mouthful of dirty sand.

What the hell kind of shit are you talking?

"Those men. Evil of the worst fucking sort. And crazy too. They came because they heard the dog bark. They came looking for Rowan. If you don't stop them, they're going to take her. And you won't ever fucking see her again. Just like Beth." Daryl knew then that what Merle said was all true. He had known it in the back of his mind all along. From the moment he touched Rowan, holding her felt like holding onto a feather in the middle of a tornado. Nothing that was good in life came easy. He was going to have to fight if he wanted to keep her.

Merle reached out, touching Daryl on the shoulder with one hand. Daryl could taste his sadness. Like salt water from the ocean. But the melancholy mingled with the taste of his own emotions. And he was tasting something he had not felt in a long time. Not since Beth died and all that he had died inside him. Hope. And it tasted like the freshest coldest water. He closed his eyes and gulped down swallow after swallow.

When Daryl opened his eyes, he was back in the teepee. The fire was out and the hearth looked cold, like it had burnt out a long time ago. Morgan was leaning over him, holding the cup of cold water to his lips.

"Rowan?," Daryl asked. His throat felt dry despite the water he had just consumed. A look of concern flashed across Morgan's face as he glanced at the woman next to Daryl.

"She's not back yet."