The cabin is not alive. It is not sentient. It does not have opinions about its occupants or preferences about their behavior. It is more like a tide pool — a contained environment that reflects and amplifies whatever is placed within it. If you bring anger, the fire burns hotter. If you bring sadness, it rains outside (or what would be outside, if outside existed). If you bring honesty, new rooms appear — spaces that weren't there before, containing things that didn't exist until they were needed.
The cabin does not judge. It does not reward or punish. It just responds. It is the most honest space in existence: nothing is hidden, nothing is manufactured, everything is a reflection of what its occupants are actually carrying.
It is, in this sense, the worst place in the world for someone who is used to hiding.