Polar opened the door; the room was pitch-black. She started patting down next to the door, trying to find her matches. For a second, she wished the unicorn would provide some light to help, but then she found the box. She quickly struck a match and had the oil lamps lit. Everything the light illuminated was very rough and completely functional; even the “floor” was just beaten-down ground. “Just sit anywhere,” Polar said, gesturing vaguely. Not that there were many places to sit.