When Daryl slipped out of the house with Judith on his hip and made his way to the new headquarters, Rachel was already making breakfast and the little old lady wandered around her, the quiet girl standing nearby.
Daryl put Judith down and watched as she bolted off. He turned his attention then and noticed Beau not too far off, heading in the direction of the barn. Judith was after him.
"Jude's comin' at'cha!" Daryl called. Beau turned and raised a hand at Daryl, showing that he saw the little girl making as much time as possible on her tiny legs.
Daryl made his way over to Rachel and the old woman.
"Where's Jeremiah?" Daryl asked.
"He's gone," Muh said. "He'll be back in three days." She turned then, squaring herself in front of Daryl and looking him up and down for a moment. "I'll see your people today," she said. "I'll require two fires. Haralee shall tend them for me. I will need two pots, one for each fire."
Daryl nodded at her.
"I'll have my meal," she said. "Then I will talk to the fever of the woman I saw yesterday. The baby that's to come, it's yours?"
Daryl nodded. He noticed Rachel glancing at him over her shoulder. Muh smiled at him.
"It's not well, but it will be," she said. "I'll see to the child when I'm done with the fever."
Daryl chewed his thumb. He didn't like the suggestion that there was anything wrong with the baby. No one else thought there was anything wrong with it, and Michonne hadn't mentioned any concerns. He wondered if he should go and ask her about it. He decided to wait, though. She was at the house with Hope and would come to breakfast soon enough.
Daryl offered to carry the pot for Rachel when breakfast was ready and she let him, following him into the new house and doling out portions of food to everyone. Muh didn't come for her bowl. Instead, she sat at the table, her spoon in hand, and waited until Daryl brought her a bowl, smiling at him in all her toothless glory before she began to eat, not waiting on anyone else.
Over breakfast, everyone stared at the old woman, but she didn't speak to anyone. She ate steadily until she'd finished her bowl and then she got up from the table. She stopped near Daryl for a moment and put her hand on his arm.
"I'll be back," she said. "And then I'll talk the fever out of the woman and Haralee will prepare the drink for your child."
"Where are ya goin'?" Daryl asked the woman.
"I'm going for a walk," she said. "To the woods."
"Alone?" Daryl asked. He started to get up from the table. "There's Walkers out there," he said, beginning to think that the old bat had gone senile.
Muh flashed her gums at him again.
"I will lay to rest anyone who wishes for rest," Muh said.
Daryl sighed and wrinkled his brow at her.
"Ya do know them things'll eat ya, right?" He asked. She smiled again.
"Today is not my death day," Muh said. "My death day will come…"
"I know, I know….when the next winter falls on us," Daryl said. "I heard that, but the Walkers can't hear."
Muh squeezed his arm and walked off without saying anything else. Daryl looked around and all eyes were on him. He heard the woman leave the house and sighed.
"Do I go after her?" He asked Michonne. He almost laughed at her facial expression.
"I don't know," Michonne said. "Did she park her broomstick outside?"
Daryl snickered.
"She wants to see you too," Daryl said. "Said the baby's sick."
Michonne wrinkled her brow at him and rubbed her stomach protectively.
"What's wrong with it?" She asked.
Daryl shrugged.
"Beats me," he said, "but she said she's gon' fix it."
Michonne rubbed her belly, now looking more concerned than she had before.
"Beau," Michonne called, catching the attention of Beau who was balancing Judith on his knees while he ate.
"Yeah?" He asked.
"Would you go after that old woman, please? Make sure she doesn't get eaten," Michonne said.
Beau nodded and quickly swallowed down the last of his breakfast, passing his bowl to Mark who was sitting beside him and putting Judith on the floor without another word.
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"I don't know if she's crazy or not," Tyreese said. He was walking with Daryl and carrying water back to the community. "All I know is that this morning Carol asked for breakfast, and that hasn't happened."
"So maybe Carol's just gettin' better," Daryl said.
"Or maybe the crazy little woman knows what the hell she's doing," Tyreese said.
"She wants to look at 'Chonne when we get back," Daryl said. "Said she thinks there's somethin' wrong with the baby."
"Can it really hurt for her to take a look?" Tyreese asked.
Daryl didn't suppose it could hurt for her to look at Michonne. Tyreese seemed sold on the old woman and Beau had reported that while they were out and the woman was filling her shawl with all kinds of sticks and plants, they'd hardly been troubled by Walkers at all, whether because of the weather or otherwise.
"Beau said she put down a Walker," Daryl said. "Said she talked to the damn thing after she did it too, just like it could hear her."
Tyreese shook his head a little.
"I don't care if she talks to Walkers, eats bark, and crushes bugs in that tiny little bowl she made that smelly shit in…Carol feels better and Mark hadn't made that shit happen yet," Tyreese said.
Daryl chuckled at him.
"It's only the end of the world, right?" Daryl asked. "If she's so good at savin' people, though, then why ya reckon she's so set on what she calls her death day? Why don't she just keep on livin'?"
Tyreese shrugged.
"Everybody has to die sometime, right? Maybe she's OK with it," he said. "Don't you think when you were as old as she is that you might be OK with dying?"
Daryl wasn't sure. He didn't know how old the woman was and she hadn't offered that information. She hadn't offered them much information, in fact, that didn't come wrapped up with some kind of riddle.
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Michonne wasn't entirely sure she believed in the little old woman. She'd spent part of the morning, though, with Carol, and it had been the first time that she hadn't been worried about her. Carol was weak, that much was true, but the color was in her face again and she'd even teased Michonne a little about the entire event being a conspiracy so that she could get a break from laundry and meals.
And now Michonne, perhaps against the most logical side of herself, was lying on her bed half naked while the little woman shuffled leaned over her, having dismissed Daryl earlier for not believing and for having a negative energy.
"Do you believe in healers?" Muh asked, leaning over Michonne. Michonne almost smiled at her. Part of her screamed that she didn't, but really she had to admit that she wasn't sure.
"I'm not sure," Michonne said.
Muh leaned in, working her jaws. Michonne focused on her face a little. The old woman looked like the dried apple dolls that her grandmother used to have in her kitchen. One of the woman's eyes was a bright brown color, almost gold, and the other was half clouded over, very likely because of cataracts. She didn't have a tooth in her head, as Michonne's grandmother would have said.
"You have a strong spirit," the woman said. "If you don't believe, there's nothing I can do for you, or the little one."
Michonne's stomach churned. She hadn't said anything to anyone, but she worried about this baby. She didn't know if something was wrong or if it had been her imagination, but lately she had uneasy about the baby. No one else had said anything to her, or asked her anything, beyond Daryl's common questions about whether or not everything was alright, but he asked them without any real question in his voice. The little woman, though, seemed to believe that something was amiss, and furthermore, she seemed to believe that whatever it was could be made right.
Muh turned, though, and started as though she would leave the room.
"Wait," Michonne said. Muh turned back. "I believe," Michonne said.
"Are you sure you believe?" Muh asked, approaching the bed again.
Michonne nodded.
"I'm sure," she said. Muh nodded at her.
"Close your eyes," the old woman said. Michonne did as she asked. She felt Muh running her fingers over her body, probing at her. The baby inside her squirmed and reacted. "This baby," Muh said, "it has a warrior's spirit."
Michonne snickered a little.
"Gets that from its father," Michonne said.
"No," Muh said. "You have a warrior's spirit. Your man, he is a seeker. They are more intuitive than warriors, but they take longer to arrive at their battles. This baby is a warrior."
Michonne kept her eyes clothes and felt herself drifting. Underneath the touch of the woman's hands she could feel herself relaxing more than she had in the past few days.
"Why are you angry with your baby?" The woman asked.
Michonne opened her eyes then.
"What?" She asked.
"Why are you angry with it?" Muh repeated. "Close your eyes."
Michonne laid her head back down and closed her eyes.
"I'm not angry with the baby," Michonne said.
"You are not happy with it, and it knows that," Muh said. "You're fighting it, so it's fighting back. You forget that you share the same spirit. The baby is smaller, but spirits are all the same size."
"I'm not fighting with it," Michonne protested. She wasn't even sure how you would fight with a fetus. She wasn't angry with the baby. She wasn't exactly thrilled with being pregnant right now, but she wasn't angry with the baby for that. It just wasn't the best timing. She hadn't really thought things out as clearly as she thought she had once upon a time, and now she was worried about what might happen, but that didn't mean she was angry with the baby.
Muh's fingers continued their gentle probing.
"You don't have to tell me that you're not angry with it," Muh said. "I know the truth. You need to let go of your anger, though. Even the warrior must be at peace sometime."
Michonne might not feel angry with the baby, but she knew she wasn't at peace right now. It was impossible to be at peace with everything happening around them like it was. Still, she didn't really know how to respond to the woman.
"Is this uncomfortable?" Muh asked. Before Michonne could respond, the woman probed her and she hissed at her. The woman moved her fingers and repeated the action and Michonne put her hand up to stop her, opening her eyes and sitting up a little. "I thought so," Muh said. She smacked her gums and regarded Michonne a minute. "I am going to make you something. While I'm gone, I want you to lie here." She reached out and took Michonne's hand, pressing it to her belly. "I want you to talk to your baby. Explain to it why you are fighting it. Decide for yourself if you want the child to be well. If you do, then you'll drink what I give you, and you will give up the fight against it."
"I don't…" Michonne started. The woman put her hand up to silence her.
"It isn't me that you need to explain yourself to," Muh said. "I will be back."
Michonne watched the old woman leave the room and she lowered herself back down on the pillow. She rubbed her belly, feeling the baby kick against her hand, and wondered if there was any merit in what the woman said. She wondered if the baby knew about her stress and the hint of regret that she'd been feeling. She decided, at least while the woman was gone, that it wouldn't do any harm to have a conversation with her little one. At least no one else was around to witness it, so they wouldn't think she'd gone crazy for having a serious discussion with a baby that was currently hanging out in her uterus.
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When Daryl saw the old woman coming down his porch steps, he tried not to seem as anxious as he was. He'd been sitting outside holding Hope and waiting on her, worried that something was happening and he wasn't allowed to be there.
"Is she OK?" He asked.
Muh stopped at the bottom of the step. She reached her arms out to Hope and the little girl reached for her. Daryl let her sink into the old woman's arms and watched as Muh gave her a toothless smile to which Hope responded by offering a grin of her own.
"She will be," Muh said. "Sometimes mothers have to be reminded that whether they hold their children in their wombs, their arms, or their hearts, they are first and foremost mothers. She has become angry toward the child, but they will work out their differences, and when she is at peace, so will be the little one."
Muh started off then, Hope riding on her hip. Hope looked over her shoulder and waved at Daryl. He started behind them.
"Ya ever say anythin' that makes any sense?" Daryl asked, following after the old woman until they reached the fires that the little girl was tending.
"Every sound means something to ears that are listening," Muh said. Without putting Hope down, she stooped and burrowed through a pile of things that were in her shawl which was laid open on the ground. She offered the things silently to Haralee who took them and started to mash some of them in the bowl Muh had requested earlier. When Muh was done passing the items to the girl, she stood up and looked at Hope for a moment. The girl was enthralled with tugging at some of the hair that had come loose from the woman's braid. "This one, she has your eyes."
Daryl looked at Hope. Hope didn't have his eyes, not at all. Her eyes were shaped like Michonne's, but the color of her eyes were almost the same yellow color of the one good eye of Muh. Daryl thought it was a pretty color, like some of the leaves you could find in fall, but it wasn't anything like the color of his own eyes. He wondered, suddenly, if Muh could see very well.
"She ain't got my eyes," Daryl said softly. "Mine is blue, but hers is kinda yellow."
Muh laughed a little, a light laugh.
"I didn't mean the color," she said. She didn't offer any further explanation, though. She passed the girl back to Daryl and overlooked the little girl for a moment.
Daryl had no idea what the relation between the two was. The girl was far too young to be the child of the old woman. The woman's skin was the color of a wet paper bag, and it was almost as wrinkled. The girl's skin was olive colored, a shade lighter, perhaps than Hope's. The girl had long, stringy black hair that fell nearly to her waist her eyes were a darker brown than the old woman's eyes. She was thin, but not undernourished. Daryl wondered why she didn't speak, or apparently only spoke to Muh.
"Is she your grandkid?" Daryl asked finally.
Muh looked at him, wiping her fingers with part of her skirt. She shook her head.
"Ya kin?" Daryl asked.
The corners of Muh's mouth turned up.
"We are all kin," Muh said. "Haralee is no different."
Daryl didn't think it was a very satisfying answer, but it was about the same as all the other answers he'd been given. He watched as Muh quietly stirred the contents of the pot that Haralee was now focused on.
"I need something for your woman to drink from," Muh said.
Daryl nodded and started toward the headquarters. When he returned carrying an oversized mug, having left Hope with Rachel inside, Muh accepted it and carefully poured the liquid from the pot into the mug, reaching in and picking out whatever things fell in that she didn't want. Without so much as addressing the girl again, Muh started back toward his house and Daryl trotted after her.
Daryl followed Muh through the house and she didn't stop him when they got to the bedroom. Michonne was lying on her side on the bed, half naked. She'd pulled a piece of the blanket over her to cover herself, but she didn't seem bothered at all by her nudity.
"Have you made peace with your child?" Michonne asked.
Daryl saw Michonne glance at him, somewhat nervously, and then she told Muh that she had. The old woman offered her the mug.
"Drink this, then. You need to rest. You will be tired from the conflict, but you will feel better once you've rested and come to peace," Muh said.
Daryl walked in then, and Muh didn't stop him. He sat on the foot of the bed and put his hand on Michonne's foot, wondering momentarily if she should drink the liquid. She didn't hesitate, though, she sat up, close to Muh, and sipped at it.
"It's not bad," she said, looking at Daryl after she took a sip. Daryl looked at Muh.
"What is it?" He asked.
"You could say it's a tea," Muh said. "It will wash out all the anger that she's built up, and now she won't make anymore."
Michonne drank the liquid and Muh watched her drink it. Daryl watched both of them with curiosity.
"Why the negativity for the little ones?" Muh asked after a moment. Michonne didn't respond. She just kept sipping at the liquid. Muh looked at Daryl then.
He wasn't sure how to answer the question.
"We ain't negative," he said. "It's just that babies…well…we know a lotta things can happen."
"Isn't that the beautiful thing about them?" Muh asked.
Daryl noticed Michonne stopped drinking and Muh reached her hand out, tipping the bottom of Michonne's mug to urge her to continue.
"It's just they hard to take care of," Daryl said. "With Walkers an' everything else, they could get killed. And we lost Judith's real mama when she was born. I reckon they make us a little jumpy."
"Somewhere," Muh said, "you have forgotten that babies mean life, not death, and you have not yet learned that death is not a tragedy. It will do you all good to remember that. Each of us must travel the same path. We must all be born to begin our journey, and at the end of the road, we all must die. We rest from one journey, and we begin another."
"What's the other one?" Daryl asked.
Muh looked at him for a moment, and smiled a little.
"It's different for us all," Muh said. "Just like this journey. We may travel together for a while, but we each have our own journey. No two are alike."
Muh reached out then and took the mug that Michonne had drained.
"You should rest now. Soon you will feel better and the baby will too. It's not resting, and it needs to rest a little. The journey for the child will begin soon, before the moon completes its full cycle," Muh said.
Michonne put her hand on her belly.
"No," she said. "We've got about a month and a half."
Muh put her hand on top of Michonne's, her fingertips resting on Michonne's belly. She shook her head.
"No," she said, "it won't wait that long."
Michonne shot Daryl a look and he had no idea how to interpret any of the madness around him.
"Is he gonna be OK?" Daryl asked.
The woman nodded.
"Strong and healthy," she said, "fighting from the birth no doubt." She turned back to Michonne and this time squeezed her shoulder. "Just rest," she said. "We'll all be here to celebrate the start of another journey."
Muh nodded at both of them and walked out of the room. Daryl heard the sound as she opened the door across the hall and closed it behind her, apparently going to check on Carol. He got up and pushed the bedroom door closed.
"'Chonne, do ya think she's OK?" He asked.
Michonne stared at him a few minutes, still rubbing her hand over her belly. She nodded and lie back on her side on the bed, tugging at the edge of the blanket that was thrown over her earlier.
"Where's Hope?" Michonne asked, yawning.
"With Rachel," Daryl said. Michonne nodded again.
"I'm tired, Daryl," she said. "Will you lay with me a minute? Just until I fall asleep?"
Daryl came over and toed off his shoes. He crawled up in bed and fixed the blanket over Michonne that she had been struggling with. He slid next to her and wrapped his arm around her, smelling her scent at the crook of her neck.
"I hope it was OK ya drank that stuff," Daryl said.
"I think it was fine," Michonne said. She moved Daryl's hand and he felt the baby gently kick against his palm. "The baby's calming down, at least, and I'm sleepy now."
Daryl kissed the back of Michonne's neck and felt her twine her fingers through his, his palm still resting over the spot where their youngest was growing.
Daryl stayed there, curled up with Michonne while he listened to her drift off. While he lie there, he heard the rustling about of Muh outside the room as she went down the stairs and let herself out of the house. He didn't know where she was headed next, and he still wasn't sure what he thought of her. She had declared so many things. Some of them made sense, and others didn't. Daryl wondered if he'd ever figure out the old woman, or if the next winter would fall upon them, apparently bringing her death day, before he'd even begun to wrap his mind around everything she said and did.