Kashentsovs//the priest and the demon

Danila locked the church door and headed down the forest path to his home. His black cassock blended into the overall appearance of the dark forest, making Kashin virtually invisible. The black blindfold, which Kashin rarely removed, completely obscured his eyes. The silver cross around his neck flickered discreetly in the pitch darkness.
Danila walked his usual path. He didn't need to see; it was enough to feel. A couple of leaves fell on Danila, thickening his arm and ruffling his red hair.
Reaching his hut, Danila locked himself in, removing his blindfold. At home, he allowed himself to go about without it. His cruel blue eyes surveyed the small dwelling. The old Russian stove where Danila slept, a wooden table, a corner with icons, a small shelf with books, a woven rug, and various small items like dried herbs and other things on the walls.
Kashin took off his cassock and donned a white shirt with loose trousers. Then he began cooking. But something nagged at Danila: a feeling he'd experienced more than once, and the feeling that compelled him to wear the blindfold. Kashin reached for the blindfold and put it on, then returned to cooking.