He looked down at several dark splotches on the dust. The light from his fallen phone helped illuminate them. The scales were… broken, cracked, black with sickly yellow-white lines crisscrossing their surface and sickening brown sludge soaking the dust around them. It didn’t smell anything remotely like blood. He looked at his dagger again. There wasn’t anything on it. He hadn’t cut those scales off, just knocked them off.