The young woman with the blue hair was a complete mess. She was leaning against the tunnel wall, her good leg trembling from carrying her entire body weight.
Blood covered her torso, staining her shirt and pants. The source of bleeding seemed to stem from a large puncture located on the right side of her torso. Hill couldn't see much of it, but the sheer amount of spilled blood told him enough. It was a nasty wound.
Her right leg was badly mangled as well, blood trickling from puncture wounds.
Hill knew absolutely nothing about first aid, but he knew that the wound on her side would need to be dealt with immediately.
He noticed her staring at him with an expression of shock, confusion, and a hint of fear despite her injuries. Blushing, he realized why.
"Hey, uh, sorry! It's not like that," he said as he quickly dismissed his phantom hand, letting the tunnel fall back into dimness.
The glow of the fungi provided enough light for him to see the outline of her form. He stood up, wincing as his head throbbed. He approached her carefully, raising his palms in the universal sign of peace.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Are you okay?"
The young woman watched him warily but didn't back away. She pressed harder on her wounded side and grimaced.
"How did you…?" she began, her voice shaking. "That ant… where did it go?"
"I'm... not sure myself," Hill replied honestly, his tone tinged with embarrassment. "I kinda passed out."
The young woman's brows knitted in confusion. She opened her mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a sudden and painful coughing fit.
Her face contorted with pain. Blood flecked her lips and dripped from her swollen nose. She sagged against the wall, her strength obviously spent.
"Shit!" Hill swore. He rushed to her side, ignoring his own dizziness. He caught her as her knees buckled, and she collapsed into his arms.
Her body felt too light. He held her carefully, trying to support her weight without causing more pain.
The young woman looked up at him, her eyes hazy with a mixture of pain and fatigue. Her face was pale, and her skin was cold and clammy. She was going into shock.
He had to do something fast. He carefully lowered her to the ground, resting her back against the wall. He quickly scanned the tunnel, looking for anything that could help.
He cursed his lack of preparation. No medical supplies, no water, nothing. This was a dire situation, and he felt completely useless.
"Hey, stay with me," he said, lightly tapping the woman's cheek. She blinked slowly, her gaze drifting.
He had to act quickly. He needed to stop the bleeding, but with what? And he needed to give her water, but there was none nearby. At least there wasn't any accessible water that wouldn't take a painfully long amount of time to collect.
Hill's mind raced. He remembered something from his internet browsing — that direct pressure on a wound could slow bleeding.
He tore off the sleeves of his already ruined shirt, wincing at the sight of the torn-up flesh that lined his back and shoulders. He balled up the fabric and pressed it against the puncture wound on her side, ignoring her weak cry of pain.
"Hang in there," he told her, trying to calm his voice. "We'll get you out of here."
He tore more cloth from his shirt, wrapping it around her leg to staunch blood flow from the ant bites. The makeshift bandages were already turning red, but they slowed the bleeding.
Hill sat back on his heels, his hands shaking. He'd done what he could, but it wasn't enough. She needed proper medical attention and fast. He glanced around the glowing fungi-lit tunnel, desperately searching for anything to help the woman.
There were only those puddles of the strange fluid, which he now believed to be ant blood. But that wouldn't help.
Unless…
He remembered the description of the Frost Sentinel blessing: 'Attacks may carry the bite of frost, slowing and weakening foes.'
Ice. That's it.
"Ice might be able to help," he murmured, more to himself than the semi-conscious woman beside him. "But how do I use it?"
He summoned the phantom hand and concentrated, trying to imagine the chill of frost.
Nothing happened.
"Damn it!" he swore. "I don't have time for this."
He focused again and closed his eyes. He thought of ice, of snow, of freezing winds. He remembered winters from his childhood, the feel of snowflakes on his skin, the crunch of frost underfoot. He remembered the cold of the Harbinger's presence.
Give me the ability to use this blessing, damn it!
However, nothing happened. No chill, no ice, nothing at all. What was he missing? How could he control this power? How could he use it to help her?
He repeated the description of the blessing in his mind, willing the words to give him a clue.
'Attacks… attacks may carry the bite of frost, slowing and weakening foes.'
Attacks. But did it say whose attack would trigger it? Maybe… it doesn't work with the phantom hand?
Alright. Let's try this again.
This time, he concentrated on his right hand, imagining frost flowing through his veins and ice forming at his raw fingertips. He pictured his hand as a conduit for the chilling power of winter. He was the winter, and the winter was him.
Yet again, nothing happened.
He cursed, frustration welling up inside him. He slammed his fist against the stone floor, the pain jolting up his arm.
As he did so, a small burst of icy vapor shot out from the point of impact.
Ah...
Hill stared at his hand in shock. He'd done it. He figured out how to use his blessing! But it had only worked when he struck something.
So that's what attacks mean.
He glanced back at the woman; her breathing was shallow. He didn't have time to think about it. He tore off another strip of cloth from his shirt, piped it around a small rock on the ground, and created a makeshift ice pack.
He slammed his palm hard against the rock again, and this time, he felt a surge of cold flow through his hand. Frost instantly coated the cloth and rock, freezing them solid.
"Hah!" he exclaimed, a triumphant grin across his face. He grabbed the pack and pressed it against the woman's side, hoping the cold would slow the bleeding and numb some of the pain.
She gasped as the cold touched her skin, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. But she seemed to relax slightly, her breathing becoming a fraction easier from his perspective.
Hill let out a long sigh, his hands shaking from adrenaline and fatigue. He'd bought her a little time, but they were still trapped in this ant-filled cavern with no way out. They were still in grave danger.
He glanced at the woman again, taking in her battered and exhausted form. But at least she was alive. And he would do everything in his power to keep it that way.
Now, he wanted to figure out where he could lay down and rest.
This headache is killing me.