Cat conclave

Starting Point
You have come dangerously close to the dreaded hive of the No-Tails. Few goodbeasts dwell here besides the races the Tailless have enslaved, or those too small for them to notice.

Hollow structures built from the remains of murdered Trees stand here and there, most stinking of the Tailless' oily Other-smell.

One of these edifices, however, is almost devoid of the No-Tails' scent. Instead, the air here is redolent with the sweet smell of rot, of Earth slowly reclaiming things left behind.

Cautiously entering the dilapidated Den, you discover that it is home to an enclave of lesser Slideclaws.

They laze about on bundles of dead, rotting Grass, many of them asleep, though a few are awake and washing themselves, combing their fur with their rough tongues. A sable-furred, golden-eyed Slideclaw Birther, heavy with young, seems to preside over this half-conscious gathering. When you prod at her Mind with your Song, she responds, her reply full of slow loops and curls.

''A Draak kitten. How amusing,'' she drawls, her tail tracing languid symbols in the Air. ''This is a Dream-Den of the Slideclaw People. Leave this place, before the No-Tails follow you here and disturb our dreams with your loud and tedious Destruction.''

What will you do?