"Sophia!" Daryl's rough voice carries through the trees. He has his crossbow slung over one shoulder, making his way deeper into the woods.

Sophia had been missing for about a week. Long enough for the hope of finding her to shrink into something smaller. Still there, but only just.

Chances are she's dead, but he won't stop until he knows for sure.

Sophia's twelve. No weapons. No knowledge of survival, especially on her own. The odds aren't good. Yet, here he is cluelessly wandering through the woods trying to find her.

The others are back at Hershel's farm, a place the group found after the camp outside Atlanta got overrun.

His eyes drop to the ground— patches of dried mud, something a little off in the dirt. To many, it would look like nothing, but Daryl, being a skilled tracker, notices the footprints. They're small, uneven, and resemble a young girl. He quickens his pace because the sun sets lower by the minute.

"Sophia!" He calls louder this time. No response.

The tracks he's been following suddenly stop right in front of a tree. His eyebrows pinch together slightly, half-disappointed, half-confused as he reaches for his knife.

He steps around the tree slowly, bracing himself for the sight of Sophia as a walker. To his surprise, it's her. Alive and curled up into a ball. She's still.

"Sophia?" He says. "It's me. Daryl."

No answer. Not that he's expecting one anyway.

He crouches and gently reaches for her neck. She has a pulse. It's weak, but it's there.

The girl is curled up without a shirt, exposing her bare back. Her hair is tangled, streaked with dirt and bits of leaf, and her head is dropped, unconscious.

Daryl's eyes get drawn to the scars and scabs on her back. His jaw clenches. He knew Ed was a shitty father but he never thought he would do that.

The next thing he notices is the blood. Not from her back, but from her leg. Her shirt, which is tied clumsily around the wound, isn't doing much to stop the bleeding.

She's lost too much blood, even passed out from it, but if he gets her to Hershel soon, she might be okay.

Daryl slips off his vest and yanks his shirt over his head, ignoring the smell of dirt and walker blood. He puts the shirt over her and scoops her up, jogging in the direction of the farm.

A thousand questions race through his mind on the way back to the farm.

What the hell happened that whole week she was missing?
How on earth did she survive?
How did she hurt her leg?
Was she shot, or stabbed, or bit?
How did he not notice Ed beating her?

He should've noticed. Of all people, he should've seen it. He knows what it looks like. What it feels like. He grew up with it.

The sun is almost set, so Daryl stops jogging and starts running. The wind blows through Sophia's shoulder-length hair. Her hair appears darker, but Daryl concludes that it's just the shadows from the trees mixed with the lack of daylight. Plus, her hair must have gotten dirty after spending a week in the woods.

The trees thin and the farm comes into view. "Hershel! Carol! Rick!" Daryl yells as he approaches the porch. The door bursts open. Carol first, then Hershel quick behind her.

Hershel's eyes widen at the sight of the girl in Daryl's arms. She's clearly in need of medical attention. Hershel doesn't ask questions.

"Come on. Inside quick," Hershel says, remaining calm and holding the door open for Daryl, who ran inside to lay Sophia down on the bed. Daryl then left the room to give Hershel his space to operate.

Carol pushes into the room, eyes red and teary. "Sophia! Oh my baby!" She yells as tears start to flow from her eyes. She brushes the hair out of Sophia's face, and then just stands there, frozen.

She doesn't speak or scream, just stares. The girl isn't her daughter.

The girl is the same age as Sophia. Same size, too. Carol could see how Daryl mistook this girl for her, especially in the dark of night.

"Maggie! I need gloves, needles, and surgical thread!" Hershel calls out to his daughter.

Carol blinks, like she's trying to make sense of it all. Her hand shakes as she reaches it up to her mouth.

Hershel looks at her gently. "I know you want to be with your daughter right now, but I do ask that you leave the room while we stitch her up," He says.

Carol doesn't say anything. She just backs out of the room, giving the doctor his space. She stands outside the room, head leaning against the doorframe.

She knows this means the real Sophia is still missing. She knows she's still out there in the dark woods alone. And if she's not, then her daughter is dead. Gone. Or worse, turned into one of those monsters.

Carol shuts her eyes, allowing the tears to stream down her pale cheeks. Her forehead crinkles up in sadness as she watches Hershel perform surgery on the girl who is supposed to be Sophia.

"Hey," Carol hears from behind her. She turns around to find Daryl, who strangely has his vest hanging loose over bare skin.

"Daryl.." Carol says avoiding eye contact.
"That girl that you saved... who is she?" Carol asks, fighting back more tears.

"What d'ya mean?" Daryl asks, finding her question a bit strange.

Carol pauses for a moment. Daryl doesn't even realize that the girl isn't Sophia. He thinks he saved her daughter.

Carol appreciates the time that Daryl spent searching for Sophia and she doesn't want to tell him the hard truth, but he has to know.
"She's not Sophia," She says softly.

"What?" Daryl is even more confused than before, even if he barely shows it.

"That girl," Carol repeats. "She isn't my daughter."

"So ya mean lyin' in that bed...is some strange girl? It ain't Sophia? Ya sure?" Daryl questions, looking into the room where the unconscious girl still lies, with Hershel stitching up her wound.

If Daryl's being honest, he never talked to Sophia and never saw her enough to be able to point her out in a crowd. So, when he saw a young girl who resembled her, he just assumed. Well, who else would it be?

"I'm sure, Daryl," Carol says, the disappointment still lingering in her voice.

Daryl stares into her sad eyes for a brief moment, guilt overwhelming him on the inside. He didn't find Sophia, but he feels even worse that he gave her mother false hope.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles before turning to leave to room. He has to find Rick and figure out what to do next. He has to figure out what to do with this girl who isn't Sophia.