As you near the edge of the wood, more of the rodent-like creatures emerge, swarming out of burrows and honeycombed trees. Soon, the whole forest is alive with them. They surround you and chitter in a language you somehow understand: "Intruders." "They are with the cats." "New dreamers." "No, they followed the black cat." "But the black cat is not here." "We are many; they are few." Several of them emit low growls as they begin to close in. ust then, you hear a human voice call out, "What is the meaning of all this?" The owner of the voice is a blond young man with an unfazed expression. He is flanked by a pack of angry cats, each of whom falls into step beside him, save for one scarred old cat who takes the lead. You realize that the man speaks not to you, but to the creatures all around you, who slink backward as they are scolded. Then, to your ever-growing surprise, the scarred cat speaks: "Your tribute is late!"