She could have sworn that those mangled syllables were words, somehow. At the very least, they don't sound like anything she's ever heard from a walker, because all they ever do is moan. One sound, unvarying in pitch or quality, that has the power to drive people slightly insane. It's always the same sort of gurgling sound, whatever can be made by their rotting vocal cords.

Seriously, what the hell is going on?

"Are you...tryin' to talk to me? You can talk?" she moves a little closer, still wary but fascinated at the same time. Had a zombie really asked her for help? Or maybe she's just losing her mind, reading into something that's just a coincidence. Either way she crouches slowly towards the lighter, never taking her eyes off of him in case he decides to attack after all.