There was a time she would have fled gladly, but not now. She has too much to make up for. The new Citadel has a government--a council, and Furiosa is all too happy to leave the running of it to the widows--but it may always need a champion.

"...I remember frogs. I think." Little ones that came out once a year and made hideous noises all night. They were good cooked, but there were fewer and fewer of them every year. "They were all gone by the time I was initiated."

Maybe the Green Place was going sour even before she was taken from it. She's not sure that's a comforting thought.

"All our pollination is done by hand." She fills her canteen and looks up at him intently. "There's a hydroponic setup indoors, and gardens on the summits of the towers. There are flies, but no bees."

Bees. Mothers, what a good idea. Bees make honey, too, don't they?