The silence of dawn is gently broken by the soft ticking of the rooster clock, each movement echoing in the miniature bedroom. James stirs beneath a patchwork quilt, the warmth of the sun brushing his clay cheeks. His eyes blink open, adjusting to the soft glow that fills the room, and his hand instinctively reaches for the clock, feeling the familiar bumpy surface. He grins, appreciating the handiwork that brought this tiny world to life. Sasha lies on the top bunk, her legs tangled in a bright blue blanket, a faint smile on her face as she listens to the gentle clucking sound emanating from the rooster alarm. She stretches lazily, the blanket slipping off her feet and landing softly on Rere below. "Morning, everyone. Did you hear our rooster? I think he's eager for breakfast," she calls out, her voice warm and teasing. Rere, snuggled on the lower bunk, blinks sleepily and lets out a muffled giggle. The room smells faintly of fresh clay and wood, comforting and familiar. "If the rooster is so hungry, maybe he should cook for us," she replies, rolling over and peeking up at her friends with sparkling eyes. James sits up, ruffling his tousled hair and glancing at the little clock. "Let’s not keep him waiting, then. I'll race you to the kitchen—last one there has to clean up the scraps!" He swings his legs over the side of the bed, his feet landing with a soft thud on the wooden floor. The three friends burst into laughter, the sound blending with the gentle morning light that fills their cozy, handmade world. Each movement leaves a slight impression, a reminder that everything here is shaped with care and imagination. The rooster clock watches over them, silent now, as the day begins with promises of adventure and the warmth of friendship.