It didn't take much for the moon to lure them out of the shadows. Being bred as pets, they have no place, and so feel the world is completely their own. These structures are their junglegym. The night air is their scratching post. The stars, their catnip chew toys. Listen to the caterwaul of these furry phantoms. The cries will be familiar; echoed in our own courage and cowardice.
