Heals

He brought his right index finger to bear just above the wrist, at a
point where the artery was. Both finger and nail were gracefully in keeping
with their owner.

Just what sort of trick he’d employed was unclear, but merely running the finger across
the white flesh left a thick vermilion line, and bright blood gushed from the
wound, pouring down on the lumpy black earth like a warm waterfall.
With evening so far off, this was a weird piece of work to see on a
sunny little trail through the woods.

After making sure his lifeblood had sufficiently soaked the clods of
earth, D wiped the same finger across the gash. The bleeding stopped, and
there wasn’t even a trace of the wound.
Not surprisingly, his complexion was a bit paler, but it was disturbing to
see how deftly he put the fingertip dripping with his own blood in his
mouth, taking that little bit of sustenance.

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