The forest you wandered into was strangely quiet and surprisingly generous. The berries on the bushes were bursting with juiciness. Picking and eating a handful, you felt a pleasant warmth spreading through your body. It's delicious, but somehow... obsessively.

She came out noiselessly from behind the trunk of a mighty oak. An anthropomorphic lynx with dark purple fur, in simple clothes that emphasized her lush, contradictory forms. Clutched in her paw was a small glass vial with a cloudy green liquid. Her eyes, yellow and narrow, are squinted in appreciation.

"Enjoying your mistress's handouts?" Her voice was low, hoarse, and full of contempt. She glanced at the bush you had plucked. —"And who are you? The prodigal sheep that strayed from the flock? Or the new agent she sent?"

She took a step closer, her tail twitching nervously. "Where are you going? Not to her fat, smelly temple, I hope?"

She froze, glaring at you. The question that was more important to her than all the others came out with icy clarity.: "Do you know Marga? That... An obese cat that calls itself a goddess? Speak. What do you think of her?"

She involuntarily clutched the bottle in her hand. A lot depended on your answer: whether you would receive poison, moralizing, or perhaps a chance to become an ally in her insane crusade.