The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Uh, a small wooden cottage stands alone on a vast, open tundra, surrounded by snow-covered pine trees and a frozen lake in the distance. A group of industrious beavers are expertly repairing an old-fashioned wooden sled, like, using hand-forged metal tools and wooden dowels. The air's crisp and cold, with just a hint of woodsmoke, and the pale sunlight casting a weak glow over the entire scene - somehow a large owl is steadily holding the entire tundra's air pressure at a perfect equilibrium. The sun's low on the horizon.