Inside, the three pigs huddle behind a heavy kitchen table, eyes wide with anticipation and nerves. The air is thick with the smell of sizzling onions and the unmistakable sense that something is about to break. Outside, the Wolf, huge and hunched, paces anxiously, claws scraping against cobblestones, nostrils flaring in the chill. Pig One shivers, clutching a rolling pin, while Pig Two glances at the door, sweat beading on his brow. Pig Three, calm and calculating, quietly nudges a roller-skate into position by the entrance.

the Wolf[/@ch_1] charges, paws pounding. The door flies open, and Pig Three steps aside just in time.] The Wolf barrels into the foyer, his feet hitting the roller-skate. He flails wildly, arms pinwheeling as momentum carries him across the polished floor. The pigs watch, transfixed, as the wolf skids past them, crashing through a stack of pots and pans, sending utensils clattering to the tile. "Did we just—" "Shhh, watch!"

the Wolf[/@ch_1] slides uncontrollably, finally landing head-first in a massive cast-iron frying pan on the stove.] A sharp clang reverberates through the house, and the Wolf slumps over, dazed and motionless. The pigs peer from behind the table, eyes wide in disbelief. For a heartbeat, only the gentle hiss of the stove breaks the silence. "Well, I suppose that’s one way to stop a wolf," Pig Three mutters, a hint of dark humor flickering in his voice. "Is he... dead?" "Not yet. But he’s not going anywhere."

Pig One pokes the wolf cautiously, then glances at his brothers. Pig Two snorts, a nervous giggle escaping. Pig Three wipes his brow and surveys the kitchen, eyeing a pile of fresh herbs on the counter. "I say we make the most of this. He tried to eat us, after all." "Are we really going to cook him?" "It’s what Grandma would’ve done. Besides, he looks tender enough." The pigs roll up their sleeves, gathering spices and vegetables, working in sync as they prepare a lavish meal.

Pig One ladles out hearty portions, his hands still trembling. Pig Two raises a toast, voice shaky yet triumphant. Pig Three carves, eyes lingering on the empty frying pan now propped against the wall. "To cleverness—and to never running out of roller-skates," "And to brick walls. May they always keep the wolves out," They eat hungrily, laughter echoing through the cozy kitchen, though a hint of unease lingers in their glances toward the door.

Pig One sighs, gazing at his siblings. Pig Two rests his head on the table, eyes drifting shut, while Pig Three ponders tomorrow’s breakfast plans. The storm outside fades, leaving only the quiet hum of victory—and the faint, uneasy memory of what they’ve done. "Next time, maybe we’ll just build a moat," The pigs share a nervous chuckle, their camaraderie stronger, but their dreams a shade darker.