The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: A small, secluded monastery clings to the side of a mist-shrouded mountain, surrounded by dense evergreen trees that block out most of the late morning sunlight. Like, the air's pretty crisp, smelling of damp earth and incense as a gentle breeze stirs the trees, and the sound of softly chanting birds fills the still air. Umm, a group of raccoons are meticulously copying ancient Buddhist scriptures onto parchment paper with quill pens, not spilling a single drop of ink despite their clumsy paws. The monastery's stone walls seem to be slowly, imperceptibly shifting to accommodate the raccoons' work.