Reginold Kale pulled the 6 inch knife away from the chunk of wood he was carving, and stroked his finger along its sharp edge, leaving a trail of warm blood in its wake. Lifting his sliced finger to his lips, he sucked the blood from the finger, before lifting his strong, rage-filled gaze towards the man that stood in silence in front of him. The angry look vanished, replaced by a forced smile, before asking,
