"They say he’s looking for the Prophet," Miller continued, ignoring Elias's dismissal. "The one who predicted the drought. The one who told us the water would only return when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east".
He stood up, shaking the dust from his duster. "The Prophet didn't know anything, Miller. He just had a better publicist than the rest of us". west_blabla
"You hear about the silent rider?" a voice rasped from the shadows. It was Old Man Miller, a man whose skin looked like a topographical map of the very desert they were dying in. "They say he’s looking for the Prophet," Miller