Daryl can guess which ditch it is. The storm last week knocked over some trees, which rolled deep in the muddy earth. Tar is beginning to crack, roads becoming rocky and uneven. Keeping them clear of the dead is one thing, but eventually it's all going to be silt and mud.

The ditch is a mile out on route A, which is good news on the way back; it's mostly downhill. The way there, though, leaves Daryl a sweaty mess, not least because he's hauling a wheelbarrow.

He sees the wreck of the wagon, and assumes Maggie's close, probably protecting the kill. He lets out a long, low whistle, a holdover from the prison. The cardinal's whistle: are you there?