Her grin twists into a crooked thing, clearly enjoying herself spitefully. And, hey, if it gets them off the subject of their dead 'friends' and demolished home, all the better. They drive through the forest, Dead getting fewer and farer between, and she swerves on the road occasionally to avoid boobytraps. They'll be coming up on one of her stashes, soon; it's how she knows.

"My daddy taught me to survive," she says, without any evident regret. "I was better at it. Teaching don't mean shit."

She likes, too, that Merle knows that Joan killed Paul Dority, even if he was never told all the details. It's something she didn't tell anyone else in the prison, for obvious reasons, but it's something she feels something like pride over. She ended that son of a bitch. She fixed it. One of the best things she ever did, even if she did it too late.