The two frames were exceptionally clear, yet they carried the characteristic fragmented and fractured sensation of a Space-Time rift. Like sharp shards of glass, they unexpectedly pierced Roland's consciousness.
The first frame.
A rocky platform, soaked in seawater and covered in slimy, dark algae. The angle seemed somewhat similar to where they now stood, but the light was much dimmer and the fog, far thicker.
In the center of the frame, a small, furry figure was staggering, trying to get to its feet.
It was Qiao.
The usually nimble squirrel looked utterly wretched at this moment.
Its once smooth and fluffy brown fur was soaked through by the seawater and fog, plastered to its small body. A few tufts were even stuck haphazardly to its cheeks.
It propped itself up on the slippery rock with one forepaw, while the other quickly rubbed its small, seemingly dizzy head.
