"Me, too." That first rush of hunger after coming here, once she had it in her to eat out of more than duty, hasn't ebbed much. Apples, pies, eggs, leftover bits of past meals--whatever she can find, she's happy with. Food has never tasted so good to her as it has in the last few days.

Daryl, meanwhile, could probably clear out the storehouse on his own after his ordeal. Maggie doesn't know what Negan did to him, and she doesn't plan on asking any time soon, but she doubts square meals were involved. Even if that wasn't the case, she'd be thinking about shouldering him back to the house and its pantry; there's something about breaking bread with another person to smooth over the damage between them.

"C'mon," she says, touching his arm for a moment before turning back the way they came. "Let's get a sandwich."