It is said, when the Grar were overrunning the Ranvar villages of the Western Wood, in one tiny and unimportant village, only a single old cat remained. Too old and slow to run away with the mothers and kits, he hobbled out of his hut on a cane, and stood in the middle of the street before them. Too close to death to fear it anymore, he alone stood before them without a tremble of fear.