Word Count: 540

Even in that place, caged and confined like a common street cat, Lucasta dreamt.

She didn’t entirely know how, but she knew why; the girl with the golden hair was there, and she was waiting, just beyond reach.

Lucasta knew not where the girl was, but she felt as if she'd known the girl her whole life. Which was strange, as so much of her life had gone missing. In the hours between visits from Valhalla, Lucasta looked back upon the years and found nothing, not a trace of what her life was like before. It was as if she came into existence one day, fully grown, with the instinct and the drive to complete a set of duties she could not remember being given. It frustrated her, that lack of memory. Lucasta knew there must be something out there but didn’t know where to begin her search. She was lost. Without Valhalla, she was alone.

Her mind was empty but her heart was full. In sleep, her mind showed her fragments and flashes that drifted back and eluded her as she woke; by day, her heart burned with longing to escape that place, to continue her search, because the girl with the golden hair was out there, and Lucasta knew that she had been waiting a long, long time — as long as Lucasta had, if she could only remember the wait. Her instincts told her as much; they urged her forward. Trapped in this cage, she could not follow them.

She began to resent Valhalla his freedom, and she wondered if she was right to place her trust in him. She knew he could release her from this prison; she had seen other cats leave with their humans. Once or twice, a human approached her cage to observe her, but Lucasta drew back into the corner and hissed, and they let her be. If Valhalla were only to claim her as his own and set her free, she could go back to her search with the knowledge and experience necessary to avoid being captured a second time.

He told her he would help her, but as far as Lucasta was concerned, Valhalla's help resulted in nothing.

She didn’t like these humans. She didn’t like the food they fed her, or the way they spoke to her as if she were as unintelligent as the rest. She would speak and rid them of their delusions if Valhalla had not cautioned her against it. These humans were foolish creatures of little intellect and startlingly limited imagination.

Her only salvation, her only break from the boredom and monotony of the day, came to her in her dreams. Her daily visits into the realm of unconsciousness soothed an aching heart. If not for her dreams, she would truly be lost.

In those moments, Lucasta felt at peace; she belonged with the girl with the golden hair, and she would find her if it took her the rest of her life to do so. There was a bond between them, one that could not be broken.

Lucasta may have had no memory of her life before, but she knew that wherever the girl with the golden hair was, it would be home.