She’d never had one before, but she thought it was time. Everyone else had one. That made it time. Otherwise, she was not part of the norm. She liked being part of the norm.

They were so tiny, they amazed her. She walked past their cages, looking down and studying the inhabitants. A few made noises at her, but most stayed back, wary and watchful. It was one of the latter that attracted her.

Stopping before his cage, she knew he was the one. White, with brown hair and a beard, he looked older than most. Older ones were rarely adopted. His clothes smelled; she would need to buy him new clothes. They took care of themselves, but often needed supplies. Besides food, he would need grooming materials and clothes. The Center sold it all, goods the Forces had captured and brought back with them for the pets.

“Open the cage,” she said. “I want to see this one.”

He seemed to realize something was going on because he stood and stepped forward. His tiny hands were balled into fists. The inhabitants of the other cages began making noise as his cage opened. He stared up at her as she leaned in and picked him up.

“Careful,” the slave said.

“I am,” she said, resentful of the other’s tone and words. “I know what I’m doing.”

The slave scuttered back.

The human fit in her hand. He was so small, delicate, and light. “He has blue eyes,” she said.

“Yes,” the slave said.

She liked his blue eyes. “How old is he?”

“He’s fifty, in human years.”

“How long will he live?”

“He’s been treated. I’ll probably live another hundred human years with proper care, which is about twenty-five of our years.”

“I know. Do you have clothes for him?”

“Yes, I think so. He’s average. I’m sure we can find something to fit him.”

“Then I’ll take him.” She held the human up so he was level with eyes. “I will call you Riajin,” she said.

He squeaked back.

He was so cute.