Red Riding Hog[/@ch_1], a humanoid pig with sharp eyes and a confident stride.] Red Riding Hog pauses, senses keen, snout twitching as she scans the darkness for movement. From behind a mossy trunk, the hulking silhouette of The Wolf, fur bristling, emerges with snarling intent. The forest seems to hold its breath as The Wolf lunges, jaws wide, claws scraping the earth. Red Riding Hog sidesteps with fluid agility, her hooves barely making a sound. She swings her basket up, scattering a cloud of pungent spices into The Wolf's face. While the beast recoils, coughing and blinking, she whips a sturdy rolling pin from her belt and delivers a precise, echoing blow to his temple. The Wolf collapses to the leaf-strewn path, motionless, as Red Riding Hog wipes her brow, eyes unwavering.

Granny Pig[/@ch_3], plump and sprightly, hums softly by the hearth.] Red Riding Hog drags the unconscious The Wolf inside, closing the door firmly behind her. She lays out her tools with methodical grace, sharpening a razor and measuring her spices. Her hooves work deftly as she shaves the wolf’s bristly fur, revealing pale skin beneath, each stroke purposeful and calm. Red Riding Hog dices root vegetables and arranges them in a pie tin, layering slices of wolf meat and sprinkling herbs from her basket. The kitchen fills with aroma as she kneads dough, her focus unwavering. Granny Pig watches with twinkling eyes, pouring tea and setting out plates.

Red Riding Hog[/@ch_1] and Granny Pig, seated at the table as the pie cools. The cottage is filled with warmth and the quiet satisfaction of victory.] "So, you did catch him, my clever girl. I knew you’d outwit that scoundrel," "He never stood a chance. The forest was on my side tonight—and so was my spice basket," "You planned this, didn’t you? You always were a strategist. That rolling pin move—brilliant!" "Granny, we’ve been hunted long enough. It’s time we set the traps, not just dodged them."

Granny Pig raises her fork, eyes shining with pride. "To predators who underestimate pigs, and to granddaughters who turn the tables," "Next time, maybe I’ll bring two wolves. The recipe could use more challenge." They share a hearty laugh, the bond between them strengthened by their cunning and courage.

Red Riding Hog gathers her basket, spices rattling softly, as she glances at the empty pie tin. The night deepens, and the cottage feels fortified against whatever lurks beyond the trees. The legacy of clever pigs, united against the darkness, endures in every savory bite.