When Carol had come to the door, her hair a little longer, her clothes a bit ragged, her face a lot sadder, he had felt like he was looking at a friend and a stranger at the same time. But she's got a sling around her chest, and there's a wriggling mass of arms and legs and soft baby hair poking from it.
When Rick goes to his knees, it's like the first time he'd seen her, all bloody in Maggie's arms, except this time it's not misery. It's the best kind of relief.
Carol's saying, "We were hopin' we'd see your faces again."
And Rick's giving her a look, and he's asking how, and he's cryin' when she puts his youngest in his arms.
Tyreese asks, "Did anyone else make it?" and they waste little time taking what they want from the house and heading back to their camp.
They tell bits of their story on the way, but it feels strange. Daryl can't seem to figure out what the situation is between Tyreese and Carol, and they don't mention it. They aren't uneasy, but it feels like all their interactions are heavy, full of awful gravity. And Daryl knows, things between Rick and Carol ain't all sunshine now, not even when she saved his daughter, because... some things, some people didn't come back.
Even he's not sure what he sees when he looks at Carol anymore.
Daryl just wants to get back to camp. He feels antsy, for no real reason. This is a win. This is a good day.
They're not too far from the road when he begins to hear it. Underneath the sounds of their footsteps, scuffling and crinkling in the underbrush, the silence of the birds. Steps somewhere farther off that don't belong to their group. The sudden, loud crash of a body crashing down, the dead's groan.
"Shit."