Mila rolled over onto her stomach and stretched her arms. She wondered what time it was; judging by the angle at which the light poured in, it had to be noon at the earliest. Her eyes drifted around her room lethargically. She did not want to get up, but finally decided that it was past time. Sluggish, she sat up and scooted towards the edge of the top bunk, allowing the weight of her legs to slowly drag her off of the bed as she slid to the floor. She opened the drawer to the filing cabinet which held her neatly folded changes of clothing and rifled through the middle drawer, selecting a forest green, zippered hoodie and burgundy tank top and clean underwear. Her hand reached for the handle of the bottom drawer to pull out a pair of jeans but she withdrew it; it would just be something else to wash and the jeans she had worn yesterday were not too dirty. Turning back to the bed, she rolled up the clothes in the pants she was going to put back on and headed to the showers.

She turned on the water, recoiling at the cold jet that bombarded her shoulder; though they had managed to get the plumbing of the prison working, there was no hot water to enjoy. Detesting the cold, Mila hurriedly washed and rinsed. Before, she used to take hour-long showers thinking and daydreaming, but not anymore. Bathing was something she had to endure rather than enjoy.

She dried herself off with the towel that she had laid across a stool and dressed herself; it was time she found Hershel. She had not helped him in about three days.

Outside the prison, she saw the horse corral. Flame was not there, but it was not empty. Eli and Inky stood relaxed in the warm sunlight. Mila smiled. It's been a long time, she thought to herself, walking towards them. They reacted very little when she approached them, allowing her to pet them before she began her inspection of them.

She began with Inky. The last time she had seen him, he had multiple grass cracks in his hooves, but now there were none. With a hoof pick in hand, she pushed against him as she held his front, left pastern and he obediently lifted his leg. Expecting to find an accumulation of debris, she stopped, stunned, that it was almost completely clean. Skeptical, she checked every hoof on both horses but could find nothing to complain about on either one. She stepped back, putting her hands on her hips. Though they had undoubtedly been ridden every day since Hosea had been on his own, their bodies were in wonderful condition and their coats were shiny and well-kempt. Even their manes and tails had been given a noticeable amount of attention.

"They're beautiful horses," Maggie said, arms folded over one of the posts.

Mila turned to her with a grateful smile. "Thanks. Did you brush them today?"

"No. Your dad did."

Mila raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Really? I guess you met him then."

"Yeah. He was out here this mornin'," she said, nodding.

Mila faced the animals again. "He never brushes them just because he can," she half-whispered. "Did he pick their hooves, too?" she asked. Maggie shrugged.

"I guess so. No one else has been out here with them."

"Hm." Mila leaned against the fence next to Maggie, turning so that she faced outside the corral, deciding to take the conversation in another direction. ". . . Do you miss your horses?"

"Yeah. But it's good to have some others around. I used to ride all the time, you know. Beth and- every once in a while- Dad rode with me. We used to love goin' on long trail rides in the fall when it was cool outside."

Mila dipped her chin. She remembered reveling in those same things; Hosea, Jody, and she used to make it a point to ride together at least five times before Christmas. "We did, too. And we used to ride in the Christmas parade in town every year. Held horsemanship clinics. Did our own rodeos. . . . People came from hours away to be part of them," she finished happily as she reminisced.

Maggie grinned and tilted her head. "Sounds like your family was really into it. Is that why you know so much about horse trainin'? Bein' around 'em all the time?" Mila nodded in response. "You know, you've never really talked about your family much. What you did Before. So what was it like?"

"Well, our mom wasn't always around," Mila frowned, "She kind of bounced in and out of our lives on a whim. Dad always let her. She'd be gone halfway across the country for weeks at a time with other men. But anytime she showed back up, he let her stay," she said with a sigh. "Sometimes he'd stay home and make her breakfast. The works. He always took care of her."

Maggie's smile had faded upon hearing the sad description of Mila's family. "Our mom?" Maggie questioned hesitantly, conscientious of the threat of opening up painful memories. Mila met her eyes.

"I had a sister. She died. After." Her expression was sober.

"I'm sorry," Maggie replied quietly.

"Thanks. . . . Her name was Jody." Mila watched the horses for a moment, realizing how little she had talked to anyone in the group of the time Before. Granted, their lives had been busy and tiresome since she had met them, but she wondered if the lack of communication concerning those days said something about her ability to connect with them. "She was a lot younger than me. About ten years. I'm not even sure if she was really Dad's. Like I said, Mom was gone a lot with other men. But when she found out she was pregnant, she stayed with us until Jody was born, and, once she was eating baby food, she was gone again. She left her with us." Maggie listened without interrupting. "Dad raised her by himself, except for when Mom would pop in."

"He sounds like a good man," Maggie suggested.

Mila stared pensively into the woods beyond the fence behind Maggie. "Yeah. Sounds like . . ." she trailed off without betraying her skepticism of the claim. "Hey, I came out here looking for your dad," she said, snapping back into reality.

"Well, last I knew, he was in D Block."

Mila exited the corral, latching the gate behind her. "Thanks," she said before ambling away.