The letter is written in fairly clean handwriting on a piece of paper that's obviously homemade, pressed with a few flower petals here and there. It's been put in a bright red envelope and tied to a blue bird's leg. The writing is in green ink. For all the letter's careful charm, there are a few big splats of what looks like mud, but doesn't smell as sweet.

Can't Milk those darn Cowephants!
(Tree + Flag)

Monks of the Temple,

I am a humble farmer. I live with my young husband, Roland, and we tend our little property with the hard hands of good decent folk. On our little planet it's hard to grow too much and villages often squabble over land, food and animals because of it. Food is scarce, and in this little village we are the only farmers.

Our village is tiny and hidden between two great mountains in a valley, so we don't get too much trouble normally, but lately the neighbours to the North been affected hard by the drought, everyone has, and they're contesting ownership of land and pinching our animals at night. Worst of all is the cowephant, which are mighty valuable around here. They're huge beasts that fly way up in the mountain mists, they smell bad but they're cute things and they give a whole heapin' load of milk, enough to get our tiny village through a rough drought.

I've been pulling a double shift watching the Cowephants to keep the greedy buggers away, but I'm afraid our little baby airwhale isn't up to all nighters. Silver's been grounded with fin rot, and he's the only airwhale we've got broke in around here. I'm sure Silver'll get better, but while he's sick I can't fly up to watch the herd.

Now, if I can't watch the herd that means a couple things. First of all the folk here in town are running down their rations and no milk means a lot of skinny folk. Plus, sooner or later a thief is going to nab a couple head, if not the whole lot. If we lose those varmints, we'll be flat broke and hungry. To top it off, my favorite of the bunch, ol' Bess is due to calf soon and that'd be a cryin' shame to lose that babe- and the money we'd get from selling such a fine animal.

Already I'm sure those poor Cowephants are aching to be milked. Ain't there any way you monks could lend a hand?

Thank You Kindly,
Mary

Wow, so you're basically asking the Pilgrims to just help out around the farm? Cute! I imagine each Pilgrim taking up the different duties of milking, standing watch, curing Silver's fin rot, etc. And then getting into trouble, obviously. :P

Does cowephant milk make good cheese?