"Don't they?" Peggy asked. Not in argument (for although she knew a great deal, very little of it was geology; geography; environmental), but instead in that wry inside-out tone the British were so fond of using when they questioned something. Expressed their curiousity. Half-imperious; half-humbled. Other quarters of her mind still raced, leaving insult and annoyance behind: "I would thought a drought might make quick work of it and yet--"

She tugged him along to the brdige's edge, eager to investigate. Tugged being more a state of aspiration than a certainty -- Peggy was more than aware that he could put his foot down and haul her back into place whenever he so chose. But as of yet, it hadn't happened. "I suppose a mere drought would never have persisted. Water returns, eventually."

Or one would hope. Her thoughts hung upon those ominous words voiced by Logan: or somethin' else. They didn't yet know what ended the biological lives of these people -- only that they left fearsome technology in their wake.