Word Count: 533

He told her his Earth name — Chris — but Lucasta would only ever refer to him as Valhalla, for it was a more accurate portrayal of who he was than a name given to him on a planet on which he did not completely belong.

Nevertheless, Lucasta listened as he spoke. There was something calming about the sound of his voice, though she still found herself irritated at being in a cage. At least she was no longer fighting as passionately. Life in that place became slightly more tolerable when she wasn’t constantly on her guard. The other humans seemed to agree, and took a step back to allow Valhalla to see to her care whenever he was there.

She did not remember seeing him there when she was first brought to that place, but he returned every few days after their first meeting. He cleaned her cage, made sure she was comfortable, refilled her food and water, and tried to interest her in a few toys. Lucasta attempted to show that she appreciated his consideration by not growling and hissing at him, and whenever he placed his hand close to the cage, she gave it a curious sniff.

Beneath an unnatural scent that to her nose seemed quite strong, Valhalla smelled of the outdoors, like cut grass and crisp air and cool rain. There was the unmistakable scent of a dog and of another cat, but Lucasta ignored both because beneath them there was another smell belonging to another person. It, too, smelled of nature, of spices and apples and roses.

Valhalla spoke to her to fill the silence and told her about his life. He played a sport known as baseball, in which he assumed the position of pitcher. He had two brothers, one older and one younger, and he was named for his paternal great-grandfather. Christopher. Lucasta accepted the name and added it to her memory, but knew she would never use it. Valhalla was born in Spain, for his father was a military man and the family traveled often when Valhalla was a boy.

Then Valhalla told her about his wife, and Lucasta found that she was intrigued despite herself. He spoke of a young woman whose name he said was “Paris.” He described her in detail, from her petite frame to the turquoise color of her eyes, from her zest for life to her nurturing nature, and from her pale complexion to the gold of her hair.

He was clearly in love. Lucasta would have found it disconcerting, but she was too busy trying to quell her interest to be unnerved.

Paris. The girl from the photograph. But her family name was LeFay. Valhalla's Paris was a Gallo.

Slowly, the more he spoke to her in the days that followed, Lucasta was able to learn to trust Valhalla.

The next time the room was quiet and they were alone, he asked her, “What's your name?”

She waited a moment, stared into his eyes and said, “Lucasta.”

He smiled. When he opened the cage, Lucasta allowed him to run his hand over her fur. She sniffed at him again, and her senses filled with the scent of roses.