Reaching into my boot, I carefully slide the gift from it. “I should be worried. It will likely find its way to my neck again.” The silver dagger gleams, as if calling to her. Her eyes widen, roaming up the sharp blade and over the swirling pattern dressing the hilt. Reaching out slowly, she grabs hold of her father’s knife. And for this one, single moment, all is right in the world. There she is, the Silver Savior, standing before me—dagger in hand and a smile spreading across her face.
