Daryl follows her, quiet. He knows what it is to finally get the thing you crave, and feel the horror of it. Christ, he hopes she feels the horror of it. But he can tell, by the way she shuts down, by the way she wanders, that this isn't something he can stop her from doing. He can tell this isn't something he can save her from.

He can't never save nobody, it feels like.

But he's always been good with maps. Daryl draws a dusty line, dull red becoming brighter under his finger. A rough X in Wyoming's western border. "Take you months," he says. "Dunno if the guy's even still alive."