For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.

Previously, on the Walking Dead—Carol joins Daryl in surveying their surroundings for laundry/dinner purposes, and Carol realizes she's been there before…

Signs and Wonders

Daryl tried to process what Carol had just said. "Sophia's Meadow?" he repeated.

She began slowly, walking toward the edge, remembering her daughter's spinning form amid the summer sun and the bright flowers that dotted the field. "She was here, we were here," she murmured.

Reaching out, Daryl wrapped his hand tightly around her arm at her elbow. "Slow down, huh? What are you talkin' about?"

She looked at him, shocked at the preventative measure from following Sophia's direction. "We were here," she said again, as though that would clear any confusion.

"We who, huh? I ain't been here before," he said, taking a glance around to ensure that it was all new, foreign territory.

"Me and Sophia."

He demanded clarification, his grip continuing to keep her rooted to the spot. "When?"

She shook her head. "Just… days ago!"

"In your dream?"

Her face broke into a smile—he had understood. It faded, however, when his obvious concerns remained. "There's… there's water here, nearby, I know it. Sophia showed me."

He sighed. Clearly she'd forgotten his reminder to keep track of what was real and what wasn't. "We're goin' back."

"Back? But there's a stream …" She pointed in the distance, where Sophia had led.

"And a bear, right?" he asked, his voice even and his expression unyielding.

She tugged unsuccessfully against his vise-like hold. "There's water. I could do laundry; you could do fishing. We could go back to camp with directions, a map, more food… wasn't that what we were sent to do?"

"We weren't sent here to go chasin' after Sophia," he said through clenched teeth. Besides, he'd done that once and had come up empty. He wasn't about to do that again, not when he knew she was dead and buried.

The hurt that flared in her eyes was instantaneous. "Let me go," she demanded. Her voice, however, betrayed her, hovering at just above a whisper.

"Won't happen," he said, trying to pull her closer.

Frustration and heartache fueled her as she struggled against him. She never raised her free hand against him, though she did attempt to push him back from her as she tried to wriggle away.

He told himself it was just because she was tired, that it was the exhaustion talking and acting. It might've been amusing in some other life, but he could tell that she believed her own dreams, that she wasn't about to let go of whatever truth she'd managed to convince herself was real. He sighed heavily.

She was desperate. Why couldn't he understand? Why didn't he trust her? She'd never be able to overpower him, not even if she'd gotten a full night's rest. While she'd frequently stood, taking whatever punishment whoever chose to dish out to her, she was hungry for a miracle, for some way to escape from him. She knew what she would find, if he would just release her.

It would only be a matter of time, he decided, before she would wear herself out and he might have to break his word and carry her back to camp anyway. While it wasn't his first choice, he'd prefer that to following her into the woods as she chased after ghosts.

Neither was sure how it happened, how she managed to tear herself from his grasp. Both exchanged a fleeting look of shock before she took off like a shot through the field with her suddenly discovered freedom.

"Carol!" He was left with no option; he had to follow. Anger boiling, he charged after her.

She moved with a determination she felt from the top of her head to the bottoms of her feet, clearing the meadow and re-entering the woods that surrounded it. It was like she could hear Sophia's sweet laughter, like she could almost see her daughter bounding along ahead of her. She'd prove to Daryl that it wasn't craziness that was talking, but some miracle, some proof that hope wasn't lost, that they weren't doomed to succumb to the plague that surrounded them.

He wasn't sure how she was able to move so swiftly or surely. Even with his history of traipsing through backwoods Georgia, he had to keep glancing down to make sure he wasn't about to fall over. "Dammit, woman, stop!" he growled.

Normally, she would've easily obliged. It wasn't typically her style to push the boundaries others had set. She'd never been one to rock a boat or cause any kind of uproar. At that particular moment, however, she couldn't remember ever feeling so strongly before.

Stay tuned…