"Milk..?" Miles says as he smells the strange substance now on his fingers. "Let me smell." I say say as I grab his hand to smell. Wow, he's right. It IS milk. But what is milk doing all the way down here, in this 300 hundred year old mine? We say nothing and Miles follows me. We head deeper into the mine, arriving at a cart, a minecart. "Hey.. doesn't this look kind of.. clean..? Why would it look so clean if this place has been untouched for nearly 300 years?" questions Miles, but before I could even think of a response, I am frozen from the startling sound of a cow from behind us.