The smoke was all around her. Inside it she could smell the scented oils her mother wore, behind her ears and on the insides of her wrists. Rowan only remembered being able to smell them when her mother hugged her close. Her mother's long silky hair mixing with hers, identical in every way except color.

When Rowan left the meadow, she had not been sure where she was going. Lost in the mist and smoke, she wished for her mother more than she had in a long time. Her thoughts carried her back to the last place she had seen the woman. Back to her home, holding tight to the coarse fur of the wolf that served as her spirit guide.

Astral projection could take you anywhere in the world, but it could not take Rowan where she wanted to go. She couldn't travel back in time. Back to when her home had been full of life and love. Rowan looked around the place, unafraid of the walkers that roamed around. They could only hurt her physical form. As a spirit, they were totally unaware of her presence.

The old rainbow hammock still hung, one end supported by a the leaning post that always looked like it was about to fall over and never did. The other end was attached to the tree that Rowan used to climb when she was a girl. The community house was still standing. Rowan could see the window to her mother's room on the lower level where her women's small living group stayed. If she squinted her eyes a little, she could still see them knitting together outside by the flower gardens, their skirts spread out on the grass. The sounds of children swimming and playing in the nearby pond drifted in over the sound of the music that was coming from an old beat up cd player.

Now the dead wandered over the place. Trampling the overgrown flower beds and polluting the air with their foul moans and hisses. One walker was wearing what remained of an old tyedyed shirt. It was tangled up in the only clothesline still left hanging. Rowan didn't recognize him, but he had a shaved head, which meant he was from the community house that had a lice outbreak right before the turn. At even the mention of the L word, people would shave their heads. This was bad if it came before yearly visitor time, since it made them all look like a bunch of crazy hare krishna cult members.

In her spirit form, Rowan could not cry, but she could taste her own sadness. In her mouth it was like so many raw onions mixed in with water from the ocean. She could not stand to stay here another minute. Coming here had been a terrible idea. And it was making her admit to herself something that she had been in denial about for far too long. She was never going to be able to go home again. Home was gone, and so were her people.

The abandoned look of the place was more than Rowan could bear. She wanted to be somewhere peaceful. Taking her wolf's head in her hands, she leaned down until their foreheads were touching. The smoke surrounded her again. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, she was high above her home. Her and her wolf were sitting side by side on a cloud, Rowan's bare feet dangling out into the open air.

"Why did you come to me?," the wolf asked. The wolf always spoke to her in a voice that sounded both strange and familiar at the same time. She never registered it on a concious level, but it was her father's and mother's voices combined.

I don't know what to do.

"You lie." Rowan turned to look at the wolf. She was not lying. She felt lost and alone. Scared.

But I really don't know what to do.

"You know." The wolf licked it's lips, it's muzzle suddenly wet with fresh blood that had not been there before. "You don't want to do what needs to be done."

I can't hurt anyone. I can't kill. Not even them.

"Then the man you love will die." In that moment, the cloud below them parted and Rowan could see herself kneeling over Daryl's lifeless form. Tears were in her eyes. A man stood next to her, his hand on her shoulder. He extended his hand down to her and she looked up at him before she took it. Rowan would know that man anywere, in any clothes, at any age. His black hair flowed back over his shoulders, the same color as hers. He spoke to her. Time to come home now.

Rowan leaped up onto her feet, her mouth filling with the taste of blood as her anger filled the rest of her. She opened her mouth and screamed. The sound filled the air around her and when she looked again, the image in the cloud was gone. And so was her spirit guide. She was alone in the clouds, high above the earth. Down below her she could hear the silent cries of pain and fear coming from every direction. What was there down there for her. Nothing but more of the same. Or if the vision she had seen was true, worse things to come.

You fight or you die, she heard the words bouncing around in so many of their minds almost everyday. But she couldn't fight. Maybe it would be better to go now. To stay here in the quiet of the sleeping world and never return. Her mother was here somewhere, Rowan could feel her prescence on the other side of a diving wall she couldn't yet cross.

But she felt another presence too. This one was strong with need. And it was pulling her out of the void and back towards her body. Everything flew by her in a blur as she moved, faster than she ever had before. She could hear her name being called over and over again. Rowan. Wake up. You have to wake up. ROWAN. Please you have to wake up.

"Rowan, wake up. I know you can hear me," Daryl said again. He had her under a deep pile of blankets, holding her cold still form close to him with Tank's heavy body warming her from the other side. Aaron and Eric were building up the fire, trying to get her warm. Morgan had his hands under the blankets, trying to use the friction of his hands to warm her ice cold feet. Eric had a strong pot of coffee going that he hoped he might be able to use to incease her slowing heart beat if Daryl could wake her up enough to drink it.

Rowan's eyes fluttered open. They quickly shut again, but Daryl could feel the difference in her body. Her fingers were wiggling and she no longer felt so much like dead weight. A soft moan issued from her lips. Eric rushed over and started smacking lightly at her cheeks, hollering in her face.

"Stop that," Daryl yelled back at him, "that ain't goin' to fucking help." Eric moved back about a half inch and stared at Rowan like he thinking about yelling at her again depsite what Daryl said.

"Go get the coffee," Morgan suggested, "put some cool water in it so it doesn't burn her mouth."

Rowan woke up, feeling colder than she had ever felt before. When she was about twelve, she had been walking across the frozen creek and the ice had broken. Thankfully, the creek had only been a foot deep, so only her feet had gone in. But that water had been the coldest thing she had ever felt. Now her entire body felt like it had been dipped in that creek. She could feel her hands start to tremble when she tried to move her fingers. A cup of something warm was held to her lips and she drank it down in gulps, feeling the warmth of the liquid flow down into her belly.

When the mug was empty, Eric pulled it back. Rowan was alert and looking at him, blinking her long eyelashes slowly like they were almost to heavy to lift. He leaned down, hugging her and kissing her cheeks, not caring if he was bumping into Daryl and the dog.

"What did you just feed me?," Rowan asked, her words coming out sounding slightly slurred.

"Coffee," Eric told her.

"It tasted terrible," she informed him. Aaron sat back from the fire laughing at her comment, his eyes full with tears of relief.

"I can make you some tea?," Eric offered. Rowan gave a little weak nod of her head. Then she turned her head to look up at Daryl, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile.

"Welcome back," he told her. Rowan was distracted by his face. The warm smile and the tears at the corners of his eyes. But she had come back with a purpose. One that she couldn't allow herself to forget.

"Is Morgan still here?," she asked. Daryl looked a little surprised, like he wondered why she would be asking for some guy she barely knew. But he gestured for the man to come closer anyway.

"Hi," Morgan said to her. Rowan could tell by the way he was looking at her that he knew more than he was going to say. He was probably afraid of sounding like he had gone crazy. She knew the feeling. Morgan had not gone spirit flying with her, but she could tell he had gone.

"You met your spirit guide," Rowan said. It was a declarative statement, not a question. He smiled at her, wondering if she knew she was his spirit guide. Or a woman that looked too much like her for it to be a coincidence. In his dreams, the woman had long black hair, but when he had seen her a few hours ago, she had stepped from the shadows to reveal that her hair was really a bright copper red. But she and Rowan still had the same face, even down to the freckles. And the same tattoos on the hands and feet. Finally Morgan nodded, indicating that he had met his guide.

"What did she tell you?," Rowan asked. There was no mockery in her face. Not even a trace of a smile. Morgan wasn't sure what the level of secrecy between a man and his spirit guide should be. But since the message involved Rowan, he decided it was right to tell her. Morgan licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as an old bone. He swallowed hard, knowing that along with Rowan, the other men in the teepee were waiting to hear his answer.

"She told me you would wake up. And when you did, you would be ready."