Our name is Wolfram the Third.
Our human's name is Gunther.
Our family has kept his family as our mortal slaves for three generations. He is our mortal servant and even though he is somewhat stupid for not doing what we command him to do a lot of the time we still feel quite a lot of affection for him.
Grandfather found this cave long ago, and this little tribe of humans welcomed him warmly and took to calling him Wolfram. Grandfather learned to respond to the name, when it suited him to do so. And the name has been carried down the generations by the one called Gunther. That name has a nice, growly sound to it. Gnnnthrrrr. Gungarrr. Ggrrnterrrr. Almost, a cat could pronounce such, if he were of a mind to. And in spite of Gunther's strange obsession with the little blocks of leaves, which Gunther often tries to dissuade him from by leaping between him and the block, Wolfram is quite fond of this human. He feeds him well, and in return, Wolfram keeps the vermin in line. Besides, Wolfram can tolerate the leafy obsession when it gives Wolfram a nice warm lap to sleep on. Additio0nally, Wolfram is,as a cat must be, free to wander his larger territory at will. A human cave is a fine shelter, and good human companionship is nice and all, but a cat must be out and about on his own when the mood strikes. Gunther is always there when he returns.
Explore the house more.
The level Wolfram is on consists of five rooms: the firepit and chair room, the food room, the leaf block room, a larger room where the rest of the human pack gathers when not eating in the food room, and a smaller room where the humans store their skins and hooves when they return from the dangerous path. That room also has a climbing path to more rooms above, as well as a short, narrow hallway to the human's smelly litterbox. It's good that they hide their smell down that way, but in Wolfram's opinion, the smell could be hidden more carefully. Still, of all animals, humans are most cat-like in prper care of smells, when they aren't poisoning the air with the weird liquids they put on themselves. Thankfully, they apply those liquids up high, away from feline noses and oddly, closer to other human ones. Baffling behavior, really. Fortunately, this little tribe is less prone to such nonsense than some who visit occasionally. Wolfram enter's the food room and spies a large, fat beetle waddling slowly across the floor from the climbing path that leads downward to the dark, musty, dusty place underneath. His whiskers twitch.