Here and there, Thor trails his fingers along the edge of the plants as he passes, light enough that he doesn't do much more than rustle the leaves but still compelled to touch, both by hand and the light brush of seidr. Just feeling the little pulse of life running through the greens. The garden is healthy, flourishing in a desert that would not be hospitable to them if left on their own, a testament to how diligent the humans are in caring for their crops. Life where there shouldn't be, on both accounts, thriving in spite of everything stacked against them.

He doesn't recognize everything that they're growing, of course, but it's a staggering variety for a place as barren as this. Which makes sense as Furiosa explains where it's all come from, and abruptly he remembers that he was part of those who gifted them with seeds, back at Yule. It feels like ages ago, though he knows it's been less than a year. So much has changed since then.

"Are any of these from the ones I gave you?" It's a petty sort of thing, but he wants to know if he's helped, even in some small way.