217 The truth (2)

Straining my eyes to discern the details, it became clear that some of these miniature statues were infants who were several days or even a few months old. This realization halted my thoughts until the truth struck me with an unsettling force. "Chief," I uttered, my voice devoid of emotion, as I turned my head to the side, catching sight of the Village Chief struggling to part his lips, as if they were glued shut. Streams of tears poured down his face, his gaze transfixed upon the pit before us.