Conjuring doorways to a pocket realm that is nothing more than a giant stomach. The walls of this realm are velvet-smooth, like rose petals - or so it is said, for none have ever survived or escaped. And lofty above the velvet-smooth walls leap the great lions of the inner forest, whose scaly backs leap high in the dusk as the beasts of the inner grove dance. Not any other height among cats peers up at night from the innermost forests of Leng. For such are the inner groves that the wildest and wisest cats of all the land of Leng are content to climb, whether by the river Than or the leagues beyond. Shadows crawl over the gentle slopes that divide this realm from the beckoning Cerenarian Sea. Only these hills and domes stand between the realm of cats and the abyss that is Nyarlathotep. Beyond these are abysses too far fetched for cats, and in the realm of cats there is freedom. They leap frenziedly from one lofty catacomb to the next, tearing at the velvet-smooth walls with mauled paws and gnawing thickly at the tough timbers before they finally reach the lowest of the steps, and leap frenziedly up these they leap, heedless of the wails and scurrying shadows that chase.