Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 23: Beside a Dying Fire

Daryl and I hesitate in front of the RV, giving each other a brief look. He sighs, heads up to the door, and goes inside. After a second, I follow.

Carol sits at the dining table, sobbing into her hands. Daryl settles himself on the counter, resting his gun in his lap, and I slide into the spot across from Carol.

We stay like that for a good long while, silently reminding her that she isn't alone. Eventually, her crying lessens and she stares out the window, hands folded in front of her. Her eyes are red-rimmed and there's no joy on her face. Whatever tiny spark she had left is snuffed out. I look out towards the barn, where I can see people digging.

After a while, Lori arrives. She steps inside, pursing her lips a little as she looks at Carol.

"They're ready," she says.

Carol shakes her head.

Lori's expression is sad, empathetic. "Come on," she breathes.

"Why should I?"

"'Cause that's your little girl," Daryl says.

She looks up at Daryl and, again, shakes her head. "That's not my little girl. That's some other...thing." She gazes out the window. "My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time, I thought..." Her lips purse and she inhales. "She didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago."

No one says anything. There's nothing to say. Lori leaves and I look over at Daryl, but he's got his eyes on Carol. His jaw clenches, lips trembling for just a second before he slides off the counter. He gives her one more look before he leaves.

I wait, looking at Carol. "I can stay if you need me to."

She shakes her head. I excuse myself, leaving her to her grief. We walk to the little grove of trees beside the barn where three new graves wait, empty. One by one, we lower Sophia, Hershel's wife Annette, and Hershel's stepson Shawn into their graves. We cover them up and stand in silent vigil.

I expect there to be some words spoken, but no one steps forward to say anything. One by one, people disperse, most back to camp or the farmhouse. Daryl disappears into the woods. I stay rooted in place, staring at the graves.

After a few minutes, I also head off into the trees. I don't remember exactly where to go but maybe I'll be lucky. I search the bushes as I walk, watching and hoping until finally, I find what I'm looking for. There, hidden amongst a cluster of bare bushes, is a group of Cherokee roses. I squat by the bush and carefully pluck each bloom, being sure to leave a stem. I gather two decent-sized branches and some long strands of grass, tough and yellow. I test a knot in one of them and it holds.

I carry my find back to camp, back to the graves, and sit down next to Sophia as I get to work. It's been a long time since I've tried, but I carefully braid the Cherokee rose stems together into a halo. I set it aside, then tie my branches together with the tough grass, creating a cross.

I plant the cross in the dirt above Sophia's grave, then hang the halo over the arms. I sit back to look over my work and I hope that, up there, Sophia thinks it's as pretty as I do.

I keep sitting there long after I should've moved on, but I can't bring myself to do so. I fold my hands, pressing my mouth to my knuckles as I take a long, deep breath.

"I should've been more specific when I prayed," I say. "I prayed that we'd find you, but...I never imagined it'd be like this. I'm...I'm so sorry, Sophia."

Footsteps approach behind me and I look over my shoulder, expecting Daryl, but it's Carol. She stares at the grave, hugging herself, and I get to my feet.