The Third Pig, plump and proud in a bowtie fashioned from acorns, steps forward at the head of the procession. His trot is jaunty, but his eyes scan the crowd with a mixture of excitement and mischief. Following him is Mama Goat, resplendent in a veil of thistle and ivy, her horns polished to a moonlit gleam. She carries herself with gentle dignity, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Around them, woodland creatures—rabbits, badgers, and birds—chatter in delighted anticipation, while the wolves in the cage pace with a nervous, hungry energy, their fur bristling at every cheer.
The Third Pig takes Mama Goat's hoof, his voice trembling with emotion and a hint of bravado. "Mama Goat, from the moment you butted the Big Bad Wolf out of my straw house, I knew you were the one for me. Will you share my mud, my roots, and all my adventures?"
Mama Goat tilts her head, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Only if you promise to always keep your snout out of the vegetable patch and your heart open to every wild idea I have."
A ripple of laughter passes through the crowd, while the wolves exchange uneasy glances, tails tucked low. One wolf lets out a low whine, quickly shushed by the others.
The Owl Officiant clears his throat, voice echoing across the clearing. "If there are any who object, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
From the cage, a wolf with a scarred muzzle yelps, "Does being dinner count as an objection?"
The animals burst into giggles; The Third Pig winks at Mama Goat. "Don’t worry, dear. The menu is set. Besides, they make terrible dancers."
The Owl Officiant raises his wing. "By the power vested in me by the wood and stream, I pronounce you pig and goat—partners in mud and meadow. You may now stomp the acorn!"
Mama Goat grins, stomping an acorn with a triumphant flourish. The Third Pig snorts joyfully, spinning her in a clumsy but affectionate circle. The crowd erupts in cheers, and even a few wolves can’t help but howl, their voices mingling with the music of the forest.
The Third Pig approaches the cage, key in hoof, his grin tinged with both mischief and empathy. "Thank you for bearing witness. Now, don’t worry—the stew will be seasoned with respect."
Mama Goat gives the wolves a sympathetic nod. "If you have any last requests, now is the time. Otherwise, let’s make this a feast to remember."
The wolves huddle together, faces pale, as the scene shifts from celebration to anticipation, the air thick with the promise of a wild, unforgettable night.
