The mercenary's bag has an interlayer, and within it go things she doesn't normally bring out. Young, wandering children are all too common a sight across these lands, most clinging onto their bitter lives. A little girl pleads with a group of monsters, hoping to be spared some food. 'Please, please, help me!' says the little girl, 'I can do a lot of things, I can help you too.' The monsters take pity on this wasteland vagabond, and they accept her, allowing her into a small den she can call home. 'You're so nice!' she says, with her tiny cloth bundle. 'I can hunt—I'll bring back even more food for you.' The skies grow dark, and dark means unsafe. She shrinks into her hiding spot, looking out at the dim sky. 'We don't have enough food. You said you would hunt. Now's the time.' The leader of the squad of monsters brushes its hair out of its eyes, and says to the girl, 'Bring back more food.' The girl journeys out alone into the dark, and all the creatures under the night sky tuck themselves away, leaving her with nothing. But, far in the distance, she catches sight of a small campfire, a bag of food full enough for several days, and a seemingly very listless mercenary. 'Take it.' The thought pops into her head. Finally, she reaches out and manages to grasp the bag. Inside is something she hasn't eaten in a long time—real food. Snatch it, steal it, whatever it takes. Getting it is the only way the monsters will recognize her; taking it is the only way they will let her stay. She clutches it tight and starts to run. With the mercenary giving chase, the girl runs all the way back to the squad of monsters, and they rush at the mercenary, claws out. But the wails she imagines never come. The mercenary seems to be saying something in a loud voice. The girl peeks out from behind the bonfire. The mercenary takes the monsters once more into the black night, and after a brief departure, they come back. The monsters are delighted, crying out in celebration, as they haul a modest convoy of supplies out from the night. Time passes, growing darker still, and it comes time to rest. The girl lies down in relief, the mercenary takes watch duty, and after they are done celebrating, the monsters too sleep beside the bonfire. She takes stock of this newcomer, and the newcomer returns her gaze. After a brief moment of eye contact, she turns away and shuts her eyes. The monsters murmur as they dream, and the mercenary adds some wood to the fire. Only one pair of eyes is open, glinting in the flames, and they size up the camp. When the only sound to be heard by the bonfire is steady breathing, the girl opens her eyes. Once all the other sounds completely disappear, she emerges from her hiding spot. 'We make a good team.' In the mercenary's hand is a blade, slicked with a liquid, thick and red. The girl looks around, taking in the state of the camp. She finds a patch of ground to sit down on, still more or less clean. The mercenary starts moving the things back to their camp, and, left alone, she looks up at the moons. '...Traitor!' The sole remaining monster charges out from some corner, breath ragged and letting out an incomprehensible voice. It grapples the girl. 'I'm going to die like this,' thinks the girl as she struggles desperately. 'I can't die.' A hole is made in her little bundle; a shard of a blade cuts through the cloth in her grip and slices her hand. She grips this shard tight, and thrusts it into the night over and over, until the monster can no longer hold of its weapon. Thick, sticky, red liquid trickles to the floor. Survive. Inside the interlayer of the mercenary's bag is the shard of a blade, something she placed in there even before she was a mercenary.