Her best bet would be an alleyway, or the stoop of a building, as the only real road was exposed and at the center of the island, and its ditches were far from clean, piled with the refuse a shantyown produces. Still, she manages to find somewhere she can at least rest her head for a while, without being disturbed by more than a hungry-looking rat.<br/><br/>Several hours pass, until, while she's deep in sleep, she hears a soft, feminine voice, whispering in her ear, a voice that speaks wordlessly, but sounds like music and honey.<br/><br/>(Charm Person, DC 14.)