Carol gave short, mirthless laugh when the cat wandered out from behind a tree. All the things she'd hallucinated before, could be linked to her past or her current state in some way. Even the imagined story about Daryl's father was an obvious way of telling herself that she had needed sleep. This was simply ridiculous.
"Obviously not." She replied. "I'm talking to a cat." She gave a shake of her head. "What do you represent? My ability to land on my feet?" With everything she'd done, both smart and stupid choices, she'd survived. She was one of only two left from her original group of survivors and had outlived too many children. "Or maybe my nine lives." It certainly felt as if she had at least nine.