Isaac stood at the kitchen window examining the small block of pinewood in his hand in the fading evening light. He switched on the overhead lamp and withdrew a small, sharp knife from a drawer, making his way toward the heavy wooden table.
Even an hour after the servants had put the last clean pot back on the shelf, the hearty aroma of dinner still lingered in the air as Isaac sat down to begin his carving. He wasn't much of a woodworker, but he hoped that keeping his hands busy for a few hours might help his mind to focus on something other than his last encounter with the mysterious presence.