Garrett slowly raised a hand and gently took the dagger from her.
“It’s me. It’s just me,” he said.
“There was a…a daemon…and it…it tried to kill me… I…” she stammered, trying to explain.
“There’s no such thing as daemons,” he said soothingly, as you would to a child with a bad dream. “Everything is all right.”
“I know what I saw,” she snapped at him, angry at being condescended to.
He ignored her, putting out a hand and petting her hair, repeating, “Everything is all right.”
Zsanette brushed him off and climbed to her feet. Her legs ached, and she felt stiff. Her dragon hopped around, all four legs straight out, spitting acid that landed on the floor in smoking droplets. He had obviously seen the monster.
She tried again to explain. “It was a skeleton; I touched it. It had wings and claws.” She flexed her fingers to mimic the creature.
Garrett stood and stroked the side of her scratched face with the back of his hand letting his magyk heal her wounds. As he did so, he looked into her eyes, searching for something.