Behind the sills, a miniature room abounds with repurposed trinkets: walls made of pressed cardboard, dried in glue, a felted ring box as the cabinet, tin foils neatly contoured into sinks and pipes, sun-baked clay tupperwares, beds seamed of cotton wipes, and eclectic bits of vegetation pickled as food. The tiny Fey hides under an upturned teacup, defiantly clutching the cube of sugar she had just looted, a sewing pin in her hands.

Eirwen: Don't come any closer, human!