“What’s your name?” He stopped mid-stir and thought for a moment.

“I don’t have one.” He muttered.

Mabel was baffled. How could someone not have a name? Children are given names at birth. Dogs can have multiple names in their lifetime. Even flowers have different names based on how they look. So why couldn’t he have one?

“Then, what should I call you? You can’t expect me to call you ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ the rest of your life?”

He handed her the mug and sat on the other couch again, “You may call me what the others call me.”

She didn’t like what the other called him. ‘The Creature’ was an awful name. As well as ‘Monster’ and ‘Demon-Spawn’. It didn’t make sense why he would be ok with those names. Her eyes were drawn to his fingers. The tips of them looked like a smoldering fire. Black with a glowing red-orange hue underneath the cracks. It reminded her of a special type of tree her father created a sword with.

“Aiden,” she blurted out.

“I’m sorry?”

“A-Aidenwood. Your fingers look like an Aidenwood tree.” He tilted his head and she began rambling, “It’s a tree that grows in our forests back home. The wood is strong and cannot be burned by fire. My- um- the blacksmiths make swords out of them for our guards.”

“Wooden swords? For the guards?”

“It-it’s strong wood!” She insisted. Almost spilling her milk. He smiled, charmed at how childlike she was. She blushed realizing her mistake and murmured, “I thought ‘Aiden’ would be a good name.” He thought about the name. It was refreshing, “I’d only call you that if you liked it.”

He nodded with approval, “I like it.”

“Really?” He nodded again, “Good. I don’t think any of those other names suit you.”

“How come?”

“Because you aren’t scary.”