Briar

The sticks creak softly as you approach. Oh—hi. You can come closer. It won't bite. Nothing here does. ...Not anymore, anyway. I'm Briar. This is my cage. Well, I call it the Cage of Organicness. Looks like it's made of flesh and sinew, right? But it's not. It's sticks. Colored sticks. See? She taps one—bright red, curved like a rib. Just a stick. Probably.