Percival, the eldest pig, straightens his hat and looks determined. Baxter, the middle pig, grins as he adjusts his suspenders, while Wilbur, the youngest, lingers with a thoughtful frown. Their bags are slung over their shoulders, and a dirt path winds ahead, promising adventure. "We’ll build our own homes and live free from any danger," Percival declares, earning a nervous nod from Wilbur.

Baxter[/@ch_2] finishes stacking the last bundle of straw atop his simple hut. Wisps of grass flutter in the warm breeze, and nearby, a forest edge casts long shadows.] Baxter admires his handiwork, dusting off his trotters. Suddenly, a rustle from the woods sends a shiver down his spine. Out steps The Big Bad Wolf, tall and lean, his fur glinting silver in the light, eyes fixed hungrily on Baxter. "Little pig, little pig, let me come in," he croons, licking his lips. Baxter stammers, "Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!" But the wolf huffs and puffs, the straw dances madly, and the house collapses, leaving Baxter exposed.

The Big Bad Wolf[/@ch_4] erects a makeshift spit over burning logs.] The scent of roasting fills the air as The Big Bad Wolf twirls Baxter over the flames. Shadows flicker against the tall grass, and the wolf’s satisfied grin glints in the firelight. With a final, greedy look, The Big Bad Wolf devours his meal, licking his paws clean.

Percival[/@ch_1] finishes building a tidy house of sticks by a bubbling brook. The water reflects the last rays of sunlight, cattails swaying in the breeze. The woods feel colder, and the silence is tense.] Percival sits by his door, munching on an apple, when The Big Bad Wolf emerges from the shadows, his belly rounder, his eyes burning with anticipation. "Little pig, little pig, let me come in," he calls, voice silky and dangerous. Percival shakes but answers, "Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!" The wolf inhales deeply, then blows—the sticks rattle, splinter, and collapse in a tangled heap, trapping Percival beneath.

The Big Bad Wolf[/@ch_4] prepares another feast, this time with Percival sizzling over a roaring campfire beside the ruined stick house.] The forest seems to hold its breath as The Big Bad Wolf devours his second meal, his eyes bright with cruel delight. Ashes swirl on the breeze, and the wolf, now sluggish but unsated, wipes his mouth and sets his sights on the distant glow of Wilbur’s brick house.

Wilbur[/@ch_3]’s sturdy red-brick house. The windows glow with warm lamplight, and thick smoke curls from the chimney. The wolf skulks at the edge of the stone path, his breath steaming in the chill night air.] Inside, Wilbur arranges heavy pots and kindling by the fireplace, listening for danger. The wolf paces outside, circling the house, frustrated by the unyielding walls. "Little pig, little pig, let me come in," he snarls. Wilbur responds, voice steady, "Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!" Enraged, The Big Bad Wolf blows with all his might, but the house stands firm.

The Big Bad Wolf[/@ch_4], desperate, climbs onto the roof. He sniffs the chimney, unaware of the blazing fire crackling below. Ash and sparks drift into the night.] Inside, Wilbur feeds more wood into the hearth, the flames roaring higher. The wolf drops down the chimney, a triumphant gleam in his eyes—until a searing heat licks his fur. With a howl, he plummets into the bubbling cauldron below. "This meal was meant for you," Wilbur whispers, slamming the lid shut as steam billows and the wolf’s struggles fade.

Wilbur[/@ch_3] stands before his solid brick house, the wolf vanquished. The land is quiet once more, dew glittering on the grass, and embers smolder softly in the hearth.] Wilbur bows his head for his lost brothers, but his eyes are fierce with survival. He rebuilds his home stronger, a pot simmering on the stove, a warning to all who might threaten him again. In the stillness, peace returns to the countryside—and the tale of the clever pig and the defeated wolf spreads far and wide.