“...Where was he when our brothers and sisters cried out for his help? Where was he when their flesh was burning from the heat of the flames? Where was he when our children keeled over from taking in the poisonous smoke that filled the air? Or when our fathers and mothers, frail from age couldn’t—”
This time, it was The White Owl who spoke. Although his voice was soft, it held enough authority to cap the brimming flow of words from Inlus. All seven of them turned their attention to the high priest. He had a fringe of grey-white hair that lacked the luster of youth, around his balding scalp. At a mere glance, he looked like a puff of wind could blow him away. His hand trembled slightly as he held unto his cane. Deep wrinkles carved a map along his facial features and his chin was dusted with white whiskers...."