A Timber Bastion

I shuffled over the threshold from the garden, retreating from the evening cold onto the low cedar coffee table. Clack! A hollow wooden rattle erupted right against my robe—aah! A subterranean timber collapse! I flung my plush column backward against a porcelain coaster, quivering clear to the tip of my yellow cross! But wait... absolute nocturnal stillness. Peering out from behind my white fur collar, I realized it was merely an open rectangular wooden cigar box resting beside a thick candle. Sliding forward on my purple hem, I gave the hinged cedar lid an authoritative nudge with my plush chest. It dropped shut with a solid, muffled thud, leaving just a narrow ventilation slit above the brass clasp. Inside, the cedar aroma is intoxicating—a private, scented subterranean redoubt, fully sealed against nighttime drafts. Sovereign slumber established!