[Substitute sacrifice | Memory countdown | Two-way blood recovery]
After traveling through time and becoming the last lucid member of the tribe, in the third year of the drought, I was pushed to the altar.
The bronze whistle left by my mother has 7 dark lines - every time one line is extinguished, I lose a memory and he gets a sweet rain.
When my balance was only 3/7, he blocked his blood-stained tail fin in front of me:
"It doesn't matter if you forget, I will remember it for you."
This time, I will use my last memory to help him survive.
Intent: In a cross-clan desperate situation, redemption is never exclusive, but runs in both directions, using memory as a contract and fetters as an appointment.