The pick-up truck rumbled by a lonely walker lurching down the highway. A quarter of a mile of straight road in front of it, Daryl eased to a stop and asked, "Can I have a discussion with ya, Miss Murphy? Outside."

"Uh…sure," Carol said.

"Stay here," he told Sophia as he got out of the truck and walked around to the tail.

Carol slipped out of the passenger's side and did the same. She glanced at the cab, and Sophia, who was looking curiously through the back window, quickly looked forward again. "What's this about?"

"Want Soph to practice on that walker lurching this way. Want 'er to shoot it with the handgun. She's killed one with that wahzawhatever already. Want her to shoot one. Said you want to discuss this kind of shit, so…discussin' it."

"Who's covering her if it doesn't work out? You with the bow or me with a rifle?"

"Don't care," Daryl said.

"I think I'd like you to. I'm a good shot now, but when it comes to Sophia's safety…in this…I think I trust you more than I trust myself."

He smiled sheepishly, like a teenage boy just paid an unexpected compliment by a girl. "A'ight."

"Okay then."

"Okay? That's it. That's the whole discussion?"

Carol glanced at the walker, which was growing closer. "I'm not sure what more there is to say."

Daryl went and opened the door of the truck. "Gonna practice shooting a walker."

"I am?" Sophia asked.

"Come on out."

"Now?"

"Yeah, now!"

"Uh…okay." Sophia scooted toward him on the bench seat and then hopped down from the truck. "What if I miss?"

"Then ya shoot it again."

"What if I miss again?" There was a slight trimmer to her voice, and Carol thought she was more afraid of disappointing Daryl than she was afraid of the walker itself.

"Got ya covered," Daryl assured her. "Aim for its head. Like we practiced on the balloons. Pop!" Daryl opened his hand in an explosive motion, and Sophia startled on his cry of pop. "Can't startle like that," he told her.

"Sorry."

"Be fine. Just like we practiced."

Sophia nodded nervously. She unclipped her holster as she turned to face the walker lurching their way, turning its head back and forth as it growled and hissed and sniffed the air. She drew the gun, put one hand over the other on the grip, and stretched out her arms very carefully. The gun shook a little in her hand but then steadied.

"Wait." Daryl swung his bow off his shoulder and into his hand. "It's two hundred yards out. We practiced at twenty-five. So wait 'til it's closer. And what did you forget?"

"Forget?"

"You forgot somethin'," Daryl said. "What?"

"Umm…my stance?" Sophia widen her legs a little and planted her feet more firmly.

"Somethin' more important."

The walker was lurching more quickly now, anxious for its meal, and Carol was getting nervous with all the talk. So was Sophia, clearly. "I don't know!" she said anxiously.

"Safety's on."

"Oh." Sophia reached up her thumb and clicked the safety down. The walker was much closer now, and they could hear its chomping clearly.

"Almost…." Daryl hadn't even raised his bow to cover her. "Almost…."

The walker let out a loud, rasping growl and jerked suddenly, quickly forward. Sophia squeezed off a shot, and it hit the rotting creature in the right shoulder. The walker jerked back a step, and angered, came more quickly toward them. Still Daryl didn't raise his bow. Sophia squeezed off another shot. This time it hit the creature in the chest and stunned it for a second, long enough for Daryl to say, "Line up your sights! White dot in the middle!" But he still didn't raise a bow.

When Sophia closed one eye and squinted down the sights and pulled the trigger, and there was a click but no bang, then Daryl raised his bow. "Clear it!" he shouted as he brought the walker into his bow's sights.

Sophia quickly racked back the slide of the handgun to expel the jammed round, raised the gun again, squeezed one eye shut, and pulled the trigger, about the same time Daryl squeezed his.

The bullet tore through the walker's head, exploding its skull open, and then Daryl's bolt soared through the space the bullet had made, piercing through a stray bit of brain, and kept on soaring.

"Good job!" Carol cheered as Daryl's bolt continued to soar unimpeded through the air. "Sophia, you got it!"

Sophia was breathing a little heavily. "I did!" She lowered her gun and put the safety back on. "You didn't think I would!" she said to Daryl.

"'Course I did."

"No you didn't!" She holstered the handgun. "You shot!"

"Only 'cause my finger slipped," he lied.

"I think you lost your bolt, Pookie," Carol said. "It must be four hundred yards out by now. Do you want to go back for it?"

"Nah. Dixon says he knows where we can get a bunch. Archery range that had a little shop where they sold bolts and arrows and targets and gloves and strings and shit. Gone go lootin' soon as his ankle heels up." Daryl ruffled Sophia's hair. "Good job, kid." He held up a single finger. "One shot next time."

"I know…I know…"

"Quick job clearin' that jam. I'll look at that gun later. See what the issue is."

Sophia was smiling when she climbed back in the truck.

[*]

Forty minutes later, Daryl turned off the two-lane roadway and began driving toward the fortified fence of Woodbury. He slammed on his brakes suddenly, and Sophia, who didn't have on a seatbelt because there was none for the center seat in Daryl's truck, would have slammed into the dash if Carol hadn't shot out her arm to hold her back in a classic mom-move.

"Sorry," Daryl muttered. "Almost drove in that ditch. Stay in the car, Soph."

He and Carol spilled out of either side of the truck and looked down at the deep, narrow pit that had been dug for about five hundred yards on either side along the fence line. Walkers – at least forty of them – gnashed around inside, unable to climb the dirt walls and get out. "Abraham wasn't kiddin' bout turnin' that pit into a walker moat." It made Daryl's skin crawl, all those creatures bumbling around in there, some crowded in small packs, some roaming aimlessly the length of the moat, but it sure would keep someone from plowing a truck through the gates.

"Hands up!" came a cry from the fence.

There were two people on guard at the fence, which was made of wood that had been reinforced with sheet metal planks. They must be standing on a platform near the top because they could only be seen from the waist up. One was a young brunette – college age – and she was pointing a compound bow at them, holding the arrow pulled back and in shooting position. She looked like she knew how to use it. The other, a large African-American man who looked like he could be a linebacker, had an AR-10 leveled in their direction.

Daryl and Carol raised their hands. "We're with Rick," Carol called up. "We're expected."

"I'm Daryl Dixon." Daryl nodded across the hood of the truck. "Carol Murphy. And that's Sophia inside."

The woman on the wall peered into the truck, and then the black man lowered his rifle and said something into a walkie talkie before replacing it on his belt.

"Rick's on his way," the man called over. "I'm Tyreese." He nodded to the younger woman. "This is Haley."

Haley now lowered her bow and slackened the string. Holding the bow with one hand, she raised her other, waved, and smiled.

"Rick will be opening the gate for you shortly," Tyreese said.

Carol went back to the truck to tell Sophia to get out. The girl crept cautiously to the moat, peered down, and then sunk against Daryl's side. He put an arm around her shoulders. "They can't get out of there."

"Why do they keep them?"

"Deterrent. Ain't no one wants to try to cross over a moat of walkers."

"Then how do we cross over?"

The gate rolled open and Rick and Carl walked out.

"Hold on!" Carl said as he and Rick walked a couple yards to the right and began turning a hand crank together. A wooden bridge, which had been upright against the fence, lowered over the moat.

"Don't look down, Soph!" Carl called to her as the girl set foot on the bridge, but of course she did.

Once the trio was safely over, Rick said, "We'll leave the bridge down from now. Some soldiers will unpack the truck for you. We leave the big vehicles outside." He hugged Daryl first and patted him on the back before giving a softer hug to Carol and finally a pat to Sophia's head. Carl and Sophia hugged, and the boy said, "Come on, come on! The party's starting."

"What party?" Sophia asked.

"The school Christmas party. You can come!" Carl began walking excitedly through the gate with Sophia at his side.

Rick, Carol, and Daryl followed. "Hold up! Hold up!" Rick called after them as a Woodbury soldier shut the gate behind them.

The kids reluctantly stopped walking, turned around, and returned. "What?" Carl asked.

Rick nodded to Sophia's belt. "Is that a gun on your hip?"

"Daryl gave it to me."

"Kids under sixteen can't carry in Woodbury."

Sophia looked at Daryl as if expecting him to intervene.

"Why the hell not?" Daryl asked.

"There's no need," Rick assured him. "It's safe here. Kids can't have guns in the schoolhouse. Which is where the party is."

"Well she ain't leavin' the sword."

"There are no walkers inside these walls," Rick assured him.

"Don't care. She ain't leavin' the sword."

Rick looked at Carol. "What Daryl said," she told him.

"The gun then." Rick held out his hand.

Sophia sighed, unclipped her holster, and handed it to Rick with the gun inside.

"Come on!" Carl grabbed her hand and tugged, and they were off.

"Dumbass rule," Daryl told him.

"Not all the kids here are as responsible and tested as ours. And teachers understandably don't like the students to be armed. Come on. I'll give you the grand tour. And the mayor wants to meet you."

Daryl looked around at the little town as they walked and tried not to show how impressed he was. They'd built something at Fun Kingdom, but it was nothing like this. The tiny town had its own water tower at the far end, with Woodbury written across its side. There were twenty townhouses, a windmill at the edge of town, and rows of solar panels in the median between the streets to provide electricity.

When they passed a café – with five people inside, all drinking coffee, two reading books, and three playing a board game, Rick said, "That's like the town's library and its breakroom." When they passed a country store, he said, "That's the food distribution center. Each household picks up its rations twice weekly there. Lori works here part-time and in the daycare part-time." He opened the door and they came in and said hello to Lori, who was seated at a table in the store and appeared to be reconciling an account book of some kind.

She rose to hug them both, and Carol looked down at her stomach. She seemed bigger, somehow, even though it had only been twelve days since they parted ways. "I see they're feeding the babies well, here."

Lori smiled and put a hand on her stomach. "We got to see them. They have an ultrasound machine here. Not just for the heartbeat like Hershel's. They're tiny. But they're beautiful."

"I can't wait to meet them when they join the world," Carol told her.

Rick continued the tour, taking them past the one-room schoolhouse. A lit, decorated Christmas tree rose in the corner. There was mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and green and silver tinsel draped the room. There were twelve desks inside, but almost twice that many kids, ranging in age, it appeared, from five to sixteen, with two teachers supervising. "They combined the upper and lower school for the party," Rick explained.

The younger kids were playing duck-duck-goose, while the older seemed to be playing charades. A teenage boy in glasses shouted, "It's a movie!" as Sophia cranked her hand. She put her finger on her nose and held out three fingers. "Three words!" Carl shouted. Sophia put her finger on her nose again as Daryl and Carol followed Rick onward.

"None of them boys better try to get 'er under that mistletoe," Daryl muttered.

Carol chuckled. "She did look outnumbered." There were only three girls other than Sophia in that room who looked to be any older than eleven, but there were six boys Carl's age or older, not to mention Carl himself.

Next, Rick showed them the clinic, from which a patient was just leaving. The man held a pack of ice to his elbow, said hello, looked at the Daryl warily, and then at Carol with a smile. "Hello, ma'am, are you new to town?"

"This is Carol," Rick said. "On a visit from Fun Kingdom. And – "

"- Very pleased to meet you, Carol," Tom said with a slight tilt of his head. "It's rare we have visitors to our town. Especially such lovely ones. I'm Tom. Head electrician of Woodbury."

"Daryl." Daryl thrust out his hand aggressively toward the man. "Head hunter."

Tom looked at Daryl's hand reticently, switched the hand that was holding the ice, and reached out and shook. Daryl's grip was firm, and Tom pulled his hand away opening and closing it. "You're a headhunter? Do you have enough people for an employment firm? I thought you only had twelve or so."

"He's the main hunter," Carol said with a smile. "He's not corporate headhunter."

"Oh." Tom laughed. "That makes a lot more sense." He looked at Carol but not Daryl as he said, "I hope to see you at the entertainment this evening."

"And what entertainment would that be?" Carol asked.

"There's a Christmas concert at the arena." He returned the ice to his elbow and returned his attention to Daryl. "Nice to meet you, Daryl." He nodded and walked on.

"Head electrician," Daryl muttered. "Who the fuck introduces themselves like that?"

Rick chuckled and led them inside the clinic. Bob was there, organizing medical supplies. "Dr. Stevens is always on call as needed, but Bob mans the clinic for walk-ins twenty hours a week," Rick explained.

Bob said hello and asked if Carol was here to have her stitches removed.

"With those shaky wino hands?" Daryl asked.

"I haven't had a drink in seven days," Bob assured him. "And I have a sponsor looking out for me. Axel."

"The convict?" Daryl asked.

"Well, he's been stone cold sober ever since he went to prison."

"I'm glad you're getting the help you need," Carol told him. "And I would thoroughly trust you to remove them, but Hershel already took them out for me yesterday. I'm doing fine, thank you."

The tour continued. They saw the outdoor arena with bleachers and a stage and the warehouse. There were several gardens, a glass greenhouse, a chicken coop, and a small pen with goats that had a house with a wooden ramp leading in and out of it. There was also a science lab, where Daryl spied Eugene at work through the open doors.

Eugene walked out when he saw them. "I think you two and Daryl have met," Rick said. "But Carol, this is Eugene Porter."

"It is of the utmost pleasure to meet you."

"The utmost," Carol said, smirking. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Eugene turned to Daryl. "Although your nephew's gifting of that novel did not bode well at the start, it turned out to be a fortuitous occurrence. I am now as you can see gainfully employed in the pursuit of growing penicillin for medicinal purposes. We're also working on more efficient means of handling the town's power structures."

"So ya ain't experimentin' on walkers no more?" Daryl asked.

"Alas, our research in that particular area did not prove fruitful, and we've moved onto other avenues of scientific and technological inquiry."

"Mhm," Daryl murmured.

"Well, I best be getting back to my explorations. Pleasure to meet you." Eugene nodded to Carol and disappeared into his lab.

As Rick led them on, Carol glanced back over her shoulder at the peculiar man. During the tour, they passed two bike racks full of bicycles. There were grills in front yards, and the occasional motorcycle or moped in a narrow driveway. They passed at least three men who took the time to stop whatever work they were doing and introduce themselves, particularly to Carol.

"I'm starting to feel like a supermodel instead of a gray-haired mother in her late thirties," Carol admitted.

"Well, there's a little bit of a gender imbalance in Woodbury," Rick told her. "And you aren't wearing a ring."

Daryl instinctively glanced down at Carol's hand.

"The only unmarried women here are Rosita, Karen, Rowan, and Haley," Rick told them. "I think Karen's started seeing Tyreese, and Rosita's with Abraham." Rick strolled to a stop before the front porch of a townhouse. "Speak of the devil."

Rosita was leaned back against the rail, and two soldiers were standing on either side of her, clearly flirting with her. They stopped talking when they saw the guests, and Daryl was certain the older one of them gave Carol a once-over.

Rosita turned. "Hey, Daryl," she said. "Carol. Welcome to Woodbury." She introduced the soldiers, one of whom tipped his hat to Carol – he had on a ridiculous black beret Daryl very much doubted he had earned in the old world, a camo shirt, and blue jeans.

Rosita walked down the porch stairs to better greet them, and the soldiers went inside the house.

"Got cigars to trade," Daryl told her. "Like you suggested. For Abraham."

"Abraham and four others left yesterday to check out Terminus. He's not back yet. But I'll give you a little something for a box."

"A box?" Daryl asked. "Brought fifty boxes."

"Well, I don't have that much of my own to trade. And I don't have any clout when it comes to community trades. You'll have to run all that through the council."

Shit, Daryl thought. He thought he'd have an in on the trades with Abraham. The Council might not care about cigars.

"Has he called in?" Carol asked. "Abraham?"

"He radioed last night to say they had arrived and spied out Terminus from the trees. He said it looked like a normal camp. People gardening, barbecuing. They had a lot of guns and a lot of men patrolling, but that's any camp these days, I suppose. He said they looked more like Peace Corps types than U.S. military. They were going to camp out and try to sneak in very early in the morning, while everyone but the guard was sleeping. They want to come in the back and get a closer look before announcing themselves at the gate. But I haven't heard from him today."

"That ain't good," Daryl said.

"No, it's not," Rosita agreed. "If I don't hear from him by tonight, I'm taking another unit out tomorrow to check up on him. I was just recruiting those two boys." She jerked her head toward the now closed door of the townhouse.

"Go with ya tomorrow if ya need me," Daryl told her.

"I appreciate that."

From the look Carol gave him, Daryl wondered if that was one of those sorts of things they were supposed to discuss first. But Rosita wasn't Sophia.

As Rick led them on, Carol said, "I thought we were planning to go back to Fun Kingdom tomorrow."

"Sorry. Sounded like she needed help."

Carol made a murmur that did not sound happy. "Well, she's hard to resists, I suppose."

"What?"

Rick looked at them warily. "I'm going too," he said. "If they don't come back tonight. Lori's not happy either."

Rick led them on into a townhouse and through the living room to the closed doors of a study. Before that study, a desk sat slightly angled near the entrance, and Andrea was behind it. "Here to see the mayor?" she asked.

Daryl looked her up and down. "You're a secretary now?"

"No. I'm chief of staff."

"It's a staff of one," Rick whispered.

"I was a lawyer," Andrea continued. "Milton takes my input very seriously. I'm helping to draw up the town charter so it holds up."

"Holds up to what?" Daryl asks. "Holds up where? Ain't no courts no more."

"I mean so the language is tight and there aren't a lot of controversies going forward," Andrea said. "I'm drafting it now." She tapped a legal pad with her pencil. "I'll run it by Milton and take revisions. And the council will vote on it soon. So, my role's a little beyond that of a secretary."

Daryl held up a hand apologetically and Carol said, "It's good to see you. It's nice you're settling in."

Andrea dropped her pencil and walked around her desk to hug Carol. She nodded to Daryl. "I'll tell him you're here." She returned to the desk, picked up a phone, and pressed a button. "Deputy Grimes here with two representatives of Fun Kingdom to see you." She listened for a moment and then hung up.

"Y'all got phones?" Daryl asked.

"It just works as an intercom here," Andrea told him. "We don't have functioning phone lines. The mayor will see you now."

And with that, the great wood doors of the study pulled open. Daryl half expected some formidable form to fill its empty frame, someone with an air like that of the former governor, but instead an incredibly ordinary looking man stood there – no taller than Daryl, less muscular, and unusually clean shaven. He had dark blonde hair and reached out to push a pair of glasses up on his nose. "I'm Milton Mamet," he said. "Welcome to Woodbury."