It was almost dusk the next day when Rachel came to find Daryl. He was emptying a bucket into one of the watering troughs in the barn and she told him that there were people at the gate. Apparently they'd let them in because of the Walkers, but Mark was with them and making sure that they didn't try anything.

Daryl wiped his hands on his pants, put the bucket away, and started across the community with her. He'd expected Leland to be there, the boy from Jeremiah's camp, with word on how they might proceed, but it wasn't Leland that he saw.

Jeremiah stood near the gates. Beside him stood an old woman. Daryl couldn't be sure if it was one of the old women that he'd seen the day before, or if it was another one. Beside her stood a young girl who was very likely only eight or ten.

"Jeremiah," Daryl said, stretching his hand out toward the man. Jeremiah shook his hand. "Didn't expect to see ya here."

"This is Muh," Jeremiah said, motioning toward the old woman. "She heard that some of your group were injured and she wanted to come and see them. Muh's a healer."

Daryl cocked his head a little to the side. He'd spent much of his life hearing tales of healing people, but he'd never met someone that professed to be one, and he wasn't sure how much merit he put into it. The old woman in question was short, but she didn't look to be undernourished. She was wearing a dress that was as tattered as anything anyone else at the camp had been wearing, and around her shoulders she had a shawl bunched up that Daryl decided had likely once been a horse blanket, before moths had dined on the majority of the garment. Her hair was long and white and hung in a thick braid over her shoulder. She was scowling, but Daryl reasoned that due to her apparent lack of teeth, the facial expression might simply be the natural one for her to make.

"A healer, huh?" Daryl asked.

The old woman looked at him, a hint of a smile raising the skin around her toothless gums. She nodded slightly.

"Some would call me that," she said. "I've come to see your sick."

Daryl looked at Jeremiah. The man stood there calmly. The little girl eyed Daryl, but she didn't speak. She just stood beside the woman. Daryl looked at Mark and Mark shrugged at him, being of the infinite amount of assistance that Mark was sometimes.

Daryl finally sighed. If the woman thought she was a healer, or if she might do any good at all, he couldn't see what harm indulging her would be. He looked at the failing light, though, and wondered what had made them dare to be out at this hour.

"It's awful late," Daryl said. "I'm surprised the Walkers didn't try to tear ya up."

"It was a nice walk," Muh said. She smiled at Daryl again. "It's always a nice walk when you make it yourself."

"The Dead weren't bad on the walk," Jeremiah said. "We probably killed eight or so."

"We've got some stew leftover, ya missed dinner," Daryl said. "I'm sure Rachel can warm it up for ya though."

Rachel was standing near Daryl and nodded her head. She was marveling at the little old woman.

"The fire's still burning," Rachel said. "It won't be anything to warm it up."

"We'd appreciate it," Jeremiah said. "Any meal is a good meal."

"I'll see your ill, now," Muh said, reaching a hand out and touching Daryl's arm as though he'd forgotten she was standing there.

"Yes ma'am," Daryl said. He shot one last look at Jeremiah and left him there with the little girl. He led the old woman, who kept up with him to his surprise, to his house. She mounted the steps without a problem and followed him inside. Michonne was in the living room with the girls and she shot him an inquiring look. He glanced back at her, but continued with the old woman up the stairs and to the bedroom where Carol was in bed and Tyreese was holding his normal vigil.

Daryl knocked and Tyreese called, so he opened the door. Carol was asleep or unconscious, Daryl was never sure which applied in this situation.

"This is uh…Muh…" he said. "Says she's a healer and wants to look at Carol."

Tyreese got up from his spot and walked over, looking at the old woman. She nodded at Tyreese and he responded by returning the nod and shooting Daryl a look. The old woman reached her hand out and took Tyreese's. She sandwiched his hand between her two smaller ones.

"Are you this woman's mate?" She asked.

Tyreese looked at Daryl again and Daryl shrugged. He wasn't sure what to do with the tiny woman. She didn't seem to care much what he thought of her anyway. Tyreese smiled a little and nodded at the old woman again.

"I suppose you could say that," Tyreese said.

The woman nodded, her toothless smile visible again.

"Do you believe in healers, young man?" Muh asked.

Tyreese looked at Daryl again. Daryl wasn't sure what he wanted him to do.

"I guess…" Tyreese said. "I've never met a healer."

"If you want to stay," Muh said, "then you'll have to decide. I can't have you here if you don't believe, or else I'll never help this woman."

Tyreese looked toward Carol and back at Daryl.

"I believe," he said. Muh nodded. She turned to Daryl.

"And you? Do you believe?" She asked.

Daryl wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't sure if he believed or not. He didn't want to be the reason that the old woman couldn't help Carol, though, if such a thing were possible. He shrugged.

"I can't say as I do and I can't say as I don't," Daryl said.

Muh regarded him a minute, working her jaws in contemplation.

"You'll have to leave then," Muh said. "Perhaps in time you'll learn to believe more than what your eyes can see. Until then, you'll have to leave."

Daryl shot a final look at Tyreese and made his way out the door, closing it behind him.

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When Tyreese was alone in the room with the strange woman, he wasn't sure what to do. She looked like something between a beggar and a fictional depiction of a witch. Her face was kind, though, despite the scowl she wore. He couldn't tell how old she was, but he had the strange feeling that she was far older than even her own body suggested. She walked to the side of the bed and pulled the cover back, exposing Carol.

Carol had been awake a little earlier, but she wasn't doing well. Mark had taken to trying to "keep her comfortable" and Tyreese had to admit that he wasn't comfortable with the phrase. If the little old woman could do anything, then he'd believe anything she said, even she told him that she was secretly some kind of fairy or something.

He watched as the woman ran her hands over Carol's body. Carol didn't respond, but he wasn't surprised. Whenever she was in one of these states she was less animated than a ragdoll.

"What happened to her?" The old woman asked, peeling back the bandage that was over Carol's gunshot wound.

Tyreese swallowed.

"She was shot," he said. "In the chest. Walker slowed the bullet down, but it cracked her sternum. We can't be really sure what else."

The old woman nodded a little. She examined the wound.

"The wound is nicely dressed," she said. "There's fever there, but when the sun is up I can draw the fever out." She leaned over and put her head to Carol's chest. Tyreese almost held his breath, hoping not to disturb her. The woman smacked her gums loudly and turned to look at him. "She's not well," she said.

Tyreese kept himself from rolling his eyes. He didn't want to doubt her, and he tried to remind himself of that, though he thought that anyone with eyes would have known that Carol wasn't well.

"Her position is wrong," the woman said. "If we don't move her, she'll die in less than three days. She won't rest, though, because it isn't time for her to pass."

"Not many of the dead rest these days," Tyreese said. "What do you think we should do?"

"I'll help you," Muh said. "We'll change her position. She will still need to heal. Like all living things, it will take time for everything to mend itself, but she won't pass on."

Tyreese nodded. He'd do whatever the old woman suggested. At this point it wasn't as though it could hurt.

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Daryl and Michonne sat with Jeremiah and the little girl in their new headquarters while the two guests ate some of the stew that was left.

"Where did you find this Muh?" Daryl asked.

Jeremiah chewed the bite of stew thoughtfully.

"On the side of the road," Jeremiah said.

"Alone?" Daryl asked.

Jeremiah shook his head.

"No, she was walking with Haralee, here, just strolling along," Jeremiah said.

Daryl turned his attention to the little girl.

"Are you her granddaughter?" Daryl asked. The little girl just stared back at him and turned her attention back to her food.

"Haralee doesn't talk," Jeremiah said. "Not to anyone but Muh, at least."

"And she's a healer?" Daryl asked. Jeremiah nodded.

"What do you mean by healer?" Michonne asked, finally.

"I mean she heals," Jeremiah said, "among other things."

"What other things?" Daryl asked. Jeremiah smiled at him and shrugged a little.

"She's everything that you never thought existed," Jeremiah said. "Strangest damn woman I've ever seen in my life. I'd damn near say she's magic."

Daryl looked at Michonne and back at Jeremiah. He was suddenly wondered exactly what they'd gotten themselves into.

"Magic? Like spells an' shit?" Daryl asked. Jeremiah shrugged again and chuckled.

"The whole nine yards," he said. "Leland fell about a year ago and sliced his leg on some old barbed wire that was half buried in the ground. Nearly cut the thing off. Muh stopped the bleeding with her hands, right before my eyes and the eyes of everyone around. I thought she was crazy until then, but Leland's just as good as he ever was. Now I don't doubt the woman. She talks a lot, and most of what she says doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but in hindsight she's never wrong."

Daryl considered what Jeremiah said. Jeremiah seemed like a straightforward man with a good head on his shoulders, not the kind that would buy into old wives' tales or other such nonsense. Daryl knew he believed in things that others sometimes questioned him about, like the time he saw the Chupacabra, and he supposed there could be worse things than believing that Muh was what she said she was. After all, they lived in a world where the dead came back to eat the living, how ridiculous was it to think that one old woman might have the ability to keep the living from becoming the dead so quickly?

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When Tyreese had followed the woman's instruction and padded the bed with cushions to create the angle that she designated, he sat on the floor near her and watched her. She leaned her head again to Carol's chest.

"Much better," Muh said. "She is already more at peace."

Tyreese nodded.

Muh began to run her hands over Carol's body again. She concentrated, especially, on rubbing her arms and her legs, intently focused for a few moments on what she was doing.

"You were not the one that marked her," Muh said. "Who marked her?"

Tyreese sighed.

"Her ex-husband," Tyreese said. "He died a while ago, several years, I guess. I've never put my hands on her that way."

Muh nodded slowly, her jaws working tirelessly behind her sagging cheeks.

"She bore his child," Muh said.

"Sophia," Tyreese said. "She died too. Got bit by one of the Walkers."

Muh's hands continued their rubbing and then she finally stopped, turning Carol's hand over, palm up. Muh ran her fingertips over Carol's hand. She reached around in the folds of her dress and came up with a small burlap bag. Tyreese watched as she gently pulled the bag open, spilling the contents over Carol's hand and onto the bed. She pushed at the contents a little with her finger and Tyreese shifted in an attempt to see what she'd spilled onto the bed. It looked like stones or small bones.

"So much death," Muh said, "but so much life…and the balance is tipped for life over death."

Tyreese stared at the old woman who was looking at the dark pieces of stone or bone or whatever they were. He felt a shiver run through him and he was beginning to feel a little strange about the old woman.

"Along our journey," Muh said, "we lose the thread from time to time, but it's always there, just out of site. When we find it again, then we know exactly where the road will lead." She picked up Carol's hand and held it close to her face, the corners of her mouth turning up a little. "And I have found my thread again."

"What are you talking about?" Tyreese finally asked. The woman turned and smiled at him, her toothless gums fully exposed.

"Her death day isn't near," she said. "She'll recover, with more life than before. She'll bare you a son."

"Carol's too old for children," Tyreese said. "We both are. This isn't exactly the best place or time to have children. The world's too dangerous now."

The old woman frowned at him, her scowl deepening far beyond that which she normally wore.

"The world is no more dangerous than it has ever been," she said. "You are young, and you don't know the ways of the world, but it's not the world that's changed. It's simply what you expect of it that has changed." She worked her jaws a minute, scowling at Tyreese, leaning in at him. He suddenly felt like he had as a kid when his mother or his grandmother would scold him for doing something that he shouldn't have been doing. "You let your doubt come in, and there's no room for it here," Muh said. "She will bare you a son, and I will deliver him. For your doubt, you shall name him Isaac."

Tyreese simply nodded at the woman. He was certain now that he had no idea how to respond to her. He swallowed and watched quietly as she returned her little tokens to her bag and the bag disappeared within the folds of her dress. She got up, pulling the blankets over Carol again, leaving the wound uncovered.

"Shouldn't you bandage her wound?" Tyreese asked, concerned.

Muh shook her head.

"The wound will not trouble her," Muh said. "Tomorrow I will coax the fever out and the wound will heal."

Tyreese decided that he would bandage the wound later, but first he would escort the old woman out, since she was now standing and clearly ready to leave. He opened the door, casting a glance back toward Carol. He didn't want to admit it, but her face looked more relaxed already, and her breathing sounded less labored. He sighed a little to himself and led the old woman out the door and down to headquarters where he found Michonne and Daryl with the girls, keeping the company of two other people.

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The old woman had come into headquarters with Tyreese and accepted her bowl of stew happily. She'd announced that Carol would live and begun to eat. Daryl couldn't help but notice that Tyreese looked concerned, or confused at best, and he wondered what had happened with the woman who called herself Muh.

"I will stay three days," Muh said. "I will see all your ill, and then you can decide." She turned her attention to Daryl.

"Decide what?" Daryl asked.

"Decide if you are to accept my offer," Muh said. She spooned another mouthful of soup into her mouth and Daryl watched as some of it dribbled down her chin.

"What offer?" He asked, looking to Jeremiah. Jeremiah didn't respond to him, though. He was looking at Muh.

"I will stay three days," Muh repeated. "If you accept, then I will stay until the next winter falls upon us."

"We don't even know if we're stayin' that long," Daryl said.

Muh nodded her head at him.

"You will stay," she said. "You will stay to see that spring, and then you will move. I won't be going with you, though. By then I will have chosen someone for Haralee."

Daryl looked at Michonne. Her facial expression let him know that he was not the only one wondering what the old woman was talking about.

"Why ain't'cha goin' with us? I mean if ya stayin'," Daryl said.

"My death day will come when the next winter falls," Muh said. "I will deliver Isaac, and then it will be time for me to pass on. By then, I will know who will care for Haralee until she is a woman."

"Who the fuck is Isaac?" Daryl asked.

"My kid," Tyreese said. Daryl looked at him and Tyreese shrugged a little. He looked at Michonne and she was no less confused.

"We'll stay the night," Muh said. "Tomorrow Jeremiah will return to the others." She looked at Jeremiah then, wiping her wet chin with her hand. "You'll come for me in three days," she said. "It will be time for me to deliver Agaliha's baby. Uwa will need me."

Daryl looked at Jeremiah who smiled at him a little. He chewed at the skin on his thumb, unsure of what to think about anything anymore.

"Ya can stay here," he said. "We got the room."

He wasn't sure what else to say, and he felt like he couldn't say not to the little woman. She didn't exactly leave the possibility open in any case.

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AN: Before you ask, Muh is a fictional character, but she is based off the combination of a number of people that I have known or known of (for having passed on already). She combines some of the most interesting elements of those people into one entity for our story.