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“You need to talk to them,” Capable says, feet pounding on the stone floor as she follows Furiosa down the corridor to the garages. “You cannot always escape to the engines!”
Furiosa closes her eyes, hands clenched into fists. She’s no stranger to anger, to frustration…but fear? Nerves squirming deep in her belly? That isn’t her, and she doesn’t welcome it. She walks faster towards the beacon of dangling shop-lights in the garages.
“Furiosa,” Capable pleads, and catches up to her, soft hand on Furiosa’s wrist. She doesn’t grab or pull, she just touches, soft and gentle. “Please, stop. Please look at me.”
Furiosa is helpless to disobey, not when it comes to her girls, especially her lovely Capable and her soft, capable hands and her shining eyes. “I am no leader. If you’re looking for a voice, look to yourself, or to Toast.”
Capable softens, pulling Furiosa into her arms. She smells of milk from working in the nurseries. “I am not asking for you to lead,” she says. “I’m asking you to talk to the boys. They need guidance, and while I’m willing to give it to them…” she pauses, stroking Furiosa’s cheek, cupping it in her palm. “They need your strength, too.”
Furiosa nods, kissing Capable’s palm. “I will try.”
For now, that’s all Capable needs to hear.