My lady, this must perforce be a hastily penned note. The glade is as I remembered it, but once outside the sheltering arms of thy mighty oaks it is a different world indeed. Craven I am not, but the sight of such a seething, fuming mass of humanity in numbers as uncountable as the sands of Araby nearly unmanned me and I retreated to the cool comfort of your shelter.
I fear for what has become of the world and pray to the Lord for the courage needed to face it. As always, your faithful servant