Chloe fell back and sat on the edge of the crate and caught her breath. Rosaendra grasped her arm and let her backpack slide from her back.

“Sorry, can you do something for me?” She asked Chloe.

“Yeah...yeah...” Chloe shook the suffocating fear out of her head. “What do you need?”

“There’s a mortar and pestle in my backpack and some dried rosemary, can you get them?”

“Why?”

“Just, hurry please.”

The color began to fade from Rosaendra’s face, and Chloe did as was asked. The small plastic canister of dried rosemary sat within the bowl of the gray stone mortar, and the pestle was found sitting on the very bottom of the pack.

“Now what?”

Rosaendra pulled the plastic canister out, tipped a teaspoon of the dried needled leaves into the bowl, and then held her torn arm over it.

“Now, I can’t do this part, can you...grind the two together?”

“Why?”

“It’s to help...with this.” She weakly moves her arm, “Making a salve.”

“Will this work?”

“Yes, just trust me.”

“How fine do you need it?”

“Until it’s like a gel, and there aren’t any visible chunks left in it.”

Chloe nodded and focused her attention on the work. She had never used one before, so it took some time to get the grinding action in order. It wasn’t just hammering pointlessly at the dried material, there was the mixing and the crushing, and the rolling that had to be done. It took about a minute and a half for it to reach the right consistency, and another half minute until the last of the clumps were gone. There was a strange heat coming from the liquid. Was the blood infected with some kind of biological agent? A foreign bacterium from this world? Some sort of parasite? Chloe glanced to Rosaendra who stared intently at the pudding-like substance within the bowl as if she had some sort of vendetta against it.

“Now what?”

“Spread it inside of my wound.”

“What, are you serious?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Yes.” Rosaendra held her torn arm straight and winced as the air assailed her. “Quickly.”

“Should I use a cotton swab?”

“No. The fibers would contaminate. Just use your fingers.”

Chloe sighed and dipped her fingers in the gel-like substance and smeared it over, and inside of the wound. There was a little bit left after the series of gashes on her arm were covered with, so she spread it on the bit of torn ear.

“Now what?”

“Take some of the gauze bandages from the first aid kit, and wrap my arm with it. That’s it.”

The blood flowing from her arm had already begun to slow and congeal and scab over by the time Chloe managed to fish out the first aid kit and open it. Was this a kind of magic? It shouldn’t surprise her anymore, but it sure as hell did. She put some pads down to provide some pressure, and then wrapped Rosaendra’s arm with a whole roll of gauze, and stuck it close with a tin clip. For her ear, she just opted for a stick-on.

“Thank you.” Rosaendra couldn’t look at her eyes, “I’m sorry I snapped at you before when these two were coming.” She motioned to the dead fishmen.

“That’s okay. I’m sorry I did the same...just on edge in here, I don’t even have a shield...wait a minute.”

She bent down and sliced off the hand at the wrist of the puffer fishman, and undid the buckles holding it in place.

“Can you help me adjust this?”

“Wait. Help me with this. If you’re going to be our frontline fighter, you’ll want some armor as well, right?”

She motioned to the other Fishman. Only then did she notice the armor it was barely wearing. Both of them fiddled with the creature, rolling it over and pulling up at the armor at various angles until Chloe finally managed to pull it over its head.

“Oh, what kind of metal is this?” She said.

It was a dark kind of metal; on the border between gray and black, and felt as pliable as tin, yet no matter how she pulled at the plates they would always go back to their original shape. She had thought that it was dirty and dingy and unkempt, yet as she ran her fingers over it, she found it incredibly smooth. It just didn’t have a shine to it, as if it captured most of the light that hit it, and refused to let it go.

With Rosaendra’s help, she pulled the metal-plated jacket over herself and helped secure it in place, they then did the same with the shield.

While Chloe was packing up Rosaendra’s things, (in return for the armor and the help getting it on), Rosaendra went to both of the bodies of the Fishman she faced, knelt down, and dipped her athame into the blood oozing out of its cut head. The knife shimmered like ruby and then went back its color like rust, or the wood of a dead rosebush.

“What are you doing?”

“You get stronger just from killing things. I get stronger from allowing my blade to drink.”

That sounded ominous, Chloe thought as Rosaendra approached the body of the puffer fishman, knelt down, and coated it with its gray-green blood. It shone, once again, and the glow faded. Rosaendra turned the blade over in her hand, set it down on the crate in front of her, and drew the mirror from her pocket.

“Hey, why is my knife a different color?” She asked.

Chloe didn’t even notice, but the more she stared at it, the more the slight differences came to life. Instead of the dull reddish sheen it always held, there was a slight indigo.

“The knife drank the blood of a poisonous creature, and it is undergoing a change — a kind of evolution.”

“An evolution?”

“Yes, it is gaining the ability to use poison, it seems.”

“Really? How do I activate it?”

“By coating its edge with your blood, and stating your intent for it out loud.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Is it safe to touch?”

“Once the blood is all absorbed.”

With that bit of information, Rosaendra decided to leave the Athame alone for the moment as the two of them searched through the crates and barrels.