Mulch- Small Lock

  He pointed to a tiny hole in the metal, which could have been a speck of dirt, it was so small.

  “Now, observe a master at work.”

  The dwarf fed one of his chin hairs into the hole. When the tip reappeared, Mulch plucked the hair out by the root. The hair died as soon as Mulch plucked it, stiffening in rigor mortis, and retaining the precise shape of the lock’s interior.

  Mulch held his breath, twisting the makeshift key. The hatch dropped open.

-The Arctic Incident, Chapter 13