from a table top in a dim corner.

"WHAT, is all the racket about?" The big tom lifts his bulk to his feet and shakes himself sending orangey hair floating into the air.

"Oh I see." Says the disdainful feline. "Those two youngsters again. Really Gato, I don't know how you put up with them. Why I remember when I was a kitten, I was taught some manners." The cat glowers at Hero and Scratch as if blaming them for his aging.

The two little ones duck thier heads and tails in subjection to the old tom. "Sorry, sir." they say in unison.

"Oh for Basts sake, Grumblejaw." spoke up Gato. "I well remember when you were a kitten." Gato winks at his guests as he says, "As impossible as it may seem, he really was a kitten, once. But as I recall, he was a spoiled brat cat and had not a worry in his world."

Grumblejaw stares at Gato stoicly for a moment then yawns exposing very long, strong teeth before saying, "Hurrumph! And did I hear someone call us felines a herd or school?" *indignant snort* "In numbers we are called a pride. P-r-i-d-e! There's a reason for that."

The cat leaps from the table onto the floor then says, "Well. I don't have to listen to this nonsense. I'm going home now. My old bones tell me bad weather is coming."

"That's a fact Grumblejaw." says Flidhais. "There is a bad one on it's way."

"Then," begins Grumblejaw, "shouldn't everyone be preparing for it instead of sitting here on thier haunches."

With that the orange cat turns and stalks out of the Grotto.