Bartholomew, the eldest ram, shifts his weight and surveys the landscape with careful eyes, his horns broad and scarred from past scrapes. Rufus, the inventive middle brother, kneels to sketch plans in the dust with his hoof, his wool flecked with burrs and twigs. Pip, the youngest, dances impatiently from hoof to hoof, his gaze darting toward the sunlit ridges. "Brothers, it is time we build our own homes. I will seek the safest, strongest place—one that no beast can threaten," "Strength is good, but there’s value in cleverness and speed. I’ll try something new with my design," "I just want a home before supper! Straw will do; I’ll be napping while you two are still stacking stones," They clap horns in brotherly farewell, each setting off along a different path, their silhouettes shrinking against the vast, rugged expanse.

Pip[/@ch_3] gathers golden straw from a wild meadow, a river glinting below. Higher up, Rufus assembles fallen sticks beneath a wind-bent pine, while Bartholomew hauls heavy stones atop a crag, his muscles straining.] Pip weaves a thatched hut in record time, humming a carefree tune as butterflies flit about. Rufus knots branches with clever twists, creating a lattice of interlocked wood that sways but stands firm. On the highest ledge, Bartholomew labors over a fortress of stone, each rock carefully placed, sweat beading on his brow. "Pip, your house is light as a feather. Are you sure it’ll stand up to a mountain storm—or a hungry wolf?" "The faster I finish, the sooner I rest! Besides, what wolf would climb all the way up here?" "Better to be cautious than sorry, little brother," The wind grows colder as the sun dips, shadows lengthening above the rams’ new homes.

Fenwick[/@ch_4], prowls the rocky ridges. His yellow eyes gleam as he catches the scent of ram on the mountain air, his silhouette long and menacing against the fading light.] Fenwick slinks through the undergrowth, his claws scraping stone as he approaches Pip’s straw hut. Inside, Pip settles in for a nap, oblivious to the danger creeping closer. "Little ram, little ram, let me come in!" "Not by the curl of my chinny chin chin!" "Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in!" With a thunderous breath, Fenwick sends straw swirling into the air, collapsing Pip’s hut in a golden cloud. Pip bolts, barely escaping up the slope toward Rufus’s stick house.

Pip[/@ch_3] bursts into Rufus’s stick house, the structure creaking under their combined weight. Fenwick circles outside, his breath misting in the frosty air as stars prick the velvet sky.] "Two rams now? Twice as tasty! Little rams, little rams, let me come in!" "You’ll not get a hoof inside, wolf," "Try it, if you’re not afraid of splinters!" Fenwick draws a deeper breath, his chest heaving, and unleashes a gale that snaps the sticks and scatters branches like matchwood. The brothers scramble up the rocks, fleeing toward Bartholomew’s stone house as the wolf’s growl echoes behind them.

Bartholomew[/@ch_1]’s stone fortress, solid and imposing against the night. Bartholomew opens the heavy wooden door as his brothers tumble inside, breathless and wild-eyed.] "Quickly, inside! This house will not fall to fang or wind," Fenwick circles the walls, frustration mounting, his claws scraping uselessly at the rock. He bellows his threat once more. "Three rams together—just more for my supper! Little rams, little rams, let me come in!" "Not by the curl of our chinny chin chins," Fenwick huffs and puffs, unleashing a storm that shakes the mountain but leaves the stone house unmoved. The rams exchange determined glances, their eyes shining with the spark of an idea.

Fenwick[/@ch_4] prowls, searching for weakness as a chill wind howls.] "We can’t outmuscle him, but we can outsmart him," "Pip, gather the rope. Rufus, scatter the flour by the door. I’ll lure him in," "Let’s bake this wolf a surprise," They ready their trap, hearts pounding. Bartholomew flings open the door, taunting the wolf with mock fear. Fenwick charges, slipping on the flour, ensnared by the rope as the brothers haul him, thrashing and snarling, into a massive iron pie dish.

Fenwick[/@ch_4]’s tail sticks out comically from under the pastry crust, twitching forlornly.] "Who’s afraid of a big bad wolf now?" "He’s got plenty of bite, but I prefer him well done," "Let this be a lesson—on this mountain, brains and brawn win the day," The rams clink tin mugs, laughter echoing down the valley as they savor their victory, heroes of their own wild tale.