As the daylight faded to dusk, he helped Picard light the firepit on the veranda and the candles that sat in other strategic places. Laris came out with the tray of food pieces on sticks. Shish kabobs, she called them. Elnor thought that was a strange name for a food, but then he'd been trying lots of strange foods with strange names since leaving Vashti. Most of them he liked immensely. Also, he knew that if ever he had a craving for a familiar Romulan dish, all he had to do was ask a replicator, or, failing that, ask Laris. Now, though, seemed to be the time for trying new things.

Laris placed the tray on one side of the firepit and an empty tray on the other side, then enlisted their help so that soon all of them were roasting the meats and vegetables over the firepit, placing the cooked pieces still on their sticks on the other platter. Laris went back to the kitchen one more time, returning with three large bowls filled with cooked rice. Following their example, Elnor used a fork to remove the foods from a stick, dropping them into his bowl of rice. Each bite, he quickly realized, was a different, delicious burst of flavor.

He was so absorbed in eating that he didn't notice the cat until Picard nudged his knee and pointed silently, then put his fingers to his own lips in a motion indicating to stay quiet. Complying with the request to stay quiet, Elnor watched to see what would happen. The cat was crouched low to the ground, holding herself with a coiled tautness, only her eyes moving as they followed a moth fluttering towards one of the candles. Suddenly, with a speed that could easily match the superior reflexes of Vulcans or Romulans, the cat launched herself at least three full body lengths into the air, did a somersault and half twist, then landed neatly on her feet. She held the still fluttering moth in her mouth as she glanced around, daring anyone to try to take her prize from her. When no challenger came forth, she crouched down again, uttering a low growl to reinforce that this was her prize, before proceeding to eat the hapless moth.

Picard noted with some amusement how wide Elnor's eyes had gotten watching that display. "What do you think of cats now?" he asked.

"I think the Qowat Milat could learn a move or two from a cat," Elnor replied. "Although," he added with a grin, "we rarely have to catch our dinner out of midair."

After a few more moments of eating in silence while the cat washed herself, Elnor asked, "Why did she growl like that before eating her catch?"

This time it was Laris who answered, "She wanted to make it clear to any other creatures who might be around that the moth was her dinner, and that she was not in a sharing mood! Cats are more like wild creatures in some ways, much more so than most animals that people now keep as pets. They've never lost their ability to hunt, to catch and kill their own meals. Although cats enjoy our company, as we enjoy their company, they like to make it clear that they could survive quite well on their own. They may like us, but they don't need us."

Elnor thought about the birds he had seen flitting about in the trees along the edges of the vineyards. "What else does she catch and eat?" he asked. "Please tell me she doesn't get birds, too."

Laris took a sip of her wine before answering, "Oh, she would if we let her! You might notice that we don't have any bird feeders near the house, nor any flowers that would attract birds. We also have a low level force field surrounding the house and nearby grounds. She has an implant at the base of her neck that gives her a tingly warning if she gets too close to the force field. If she tries to cross the field, she'll get a stronger electric shock to warn her back."

Elnor looked shocked himself. "So, essentially, she's a prisoner?"

This time Picard answered, "In some sense, she is a prisoner in that we do prevent her from leaving a certain area and roaming anywhere she might wish to go. But the alternative would be to keep her entirely inside, or else allow her to kill things that could damage the local ecosystem. In past centuries, some people advocated for the complete eradication of cats because, simply put, they are and always will be natural born killers. Keeping cats confined within certain boundaries is the best compromise we've been able to reach."

Elnor let that phrase roll around in his mind. Natural born killer. Might that not be what some people thought of him? He hadn't been born a killer, but he had certainly been trained to be an efficient and ruthless killer when there was need for him to be. The Qowat Milat, before engaging someone in battle, always said, "Please, friend, choose to live," precisely so that their opponent would know exactly who it was they fought. It was fair warning to an opponent to stop what they were doing. Or die.

He shook himself out of that thought. Cats, it seemed, wouldn't even give fair warning. Then again, cats were killing to eat. The Qowat Milat had other reasons, although their reasons, too, were always justified.

As the three of them lay back in their chairs watching the stars, Picard and Laris taking occasional sips from their glasses of wine and Elnor from his glass of water, he continued to be troubled by Picard's phrase.

After some time had passed in companionable silence, he asked softly, so softly Picard almost didn't hear him, "Am I a natural born killer?"

"What!" Picard sat straight up, sputtering out the sip of wine he'd been working on. "Of course not! Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You did say that I might have more in common with cats than I do with most people."

"Oh no, Elnor, that's not what I meant at all!" Picard's heart ached that this young man, usually so gentle, could have so mistaken what he meant. He struggled to find the words to explain as Elnor looked at him, knowing that the man, barely more than a boy, would see right through any attempt to be disingenuous.

"Elnor," Picard said carefully, "it's true that you have been trained by, and have mastered the training of, the best single combat fighters I have ever met. I should know better than most exactly what you can do with a sword, or even, for that matter, with your bare hands. You've used your skills to save my life more than once. But I would never, ever think of you as a natural born killer!"

Since Elnor, too, was now sitting up in his chair, Picard leaned forward and took his hands. "What I meant when I said that was that you and cats do share many traits in common. Both of you have lightning fast reflexes that simply can't be matched by any normal human. Both of you have uncommon athletic abilities as you saw when she twisted and turned in midair to catch the moth. Both of you can be extremely efficient killers, although I would bet my life that you have never killed for the sheer joy of killing."

Elnor looked puzzled, "Cats enjoy killing?"

"Oh yes, my boy, they certainly do. And that is one trait I know you don't share with them!"

Picard released Elnor's hands, which freed Elnor to make the traditional sign of Absolute Candor, moving his hands in a motion reminiscent of opening a book. "To be completely honest," he admitted, "I do take pride in the abilities the nuns taught me. Before you came back to Vashti, Starfleet seemed like little more than a distant memory. Attending Starfleet Academy wasn't something I had even thought about. I knew the nuns would ask me to leave someday. I hoped that day would be later rather than sooner, because I thought my only option when that day came would be to make my own way as a hired sword. While I'm confident in my abilities, that wasn't a future I relished."

Picard nodded in agreement, "That could have been a difficult life, indeed. But who knows what might have happened? You might have found your way to the Fenris Rangers, met Seven, then Raffi, and still have ended up in Starfleet."

"Before we get too lost in might-have-beens," interrupted Laris, "now seems like a good time for dessert." She motioned to Elnor to gather the empty platters, bowls, and used sticks. As he followed her to the kitchen, he missed hearing Picard muttering quietly to himself, "Now why would the boy think he's a natural born killer?"

Picard didn't have long to think about it before Laris and Elnor returned, carrying plates with slices of something Laris called "angel food cake" covered in ripe, red strawberries glazed in sugar. As Elnor took his first bite, he closed his eyes in pure bliss, thinking to himself that he had never tasted anything so delicious in his life.

Picard smiled at Laris, knowing that a change in the direction of the conversation had been her intent all along.

After dessert, as they all lay once again looking up at the stars, Picard was the first to see it. "Look! A shooting star! Quickly now everyone, make a wish."

Having never heard of this custom, Elnor started to say, "Okay, I wish. . ."

"No, no no!" Picard interrupted him. "Don't tell anyone your wish. Telling will make it not come true."

Elnor didn't follow that line of reasoning at all, but he did keep the wish to himself, silently finishing ". . . I wish I might have many more nights just like this one."

After more time had passed, Picard nudged him. "You can stay out here as long as you like, but as for myself, I'm going inside and going to bed before I get covered in dew."

Deciding getting covered in dew sounded like it might not be a good thing, Elnor followed Picard and Laris inside. Once again leaving their now-empty dishes in the kitchen, he went straight to his bed and was soon sound asleep.

Finishing the kitchen clean-up, Picard and Laris glanced into his room on the way to their own. They smiled to see the still unnamed cat curled up at the foot of his bed, purring contentedly.