Wolf[/@ch_1] sprawls, immense and shaggy, his breath slow and trusting, paws curled beneath his snout.] Dust motes drift in lazy swirls above Wolf's sleeping form. Shadows stretch long across the flagstone, pooling beneath the kitchen table where a chipped teacup sits beside a rusty straight razor. The silence is broken only by the faint creak of floorboards as Boar enters, his hooves barely making a sound. Boar, meticulous and quietly determined, pads to the sleeping Wolf's side, his snout twitching with concentration. He kneels, razor in hoof, and begins to shave Wolf's thick fur with deliberate, almost reverent strokes.

Boar gently nudges the drowsy Wolf upright, supporting his heavy head and guiding him into the pillowy dough. Each movement is careful, as though tucking in a child for sleep. He arranges the vegetables around Wolf, nestling them lovingly against his sides, and smooths the fur on Wolf's newly bare cheek. As he works, Boar's breath is steady and silent, his eyes betraying neither malice nor remorse—only duty. The kitchen fills with the soft rustle of pastry and the faint thud of root vegetables settling into place.

Boar[/@ch_2] folds the crust over Wolf, crimping the edges with deft, practiced hooves. A single shaft of sunlight falls across Wolf's nose as he stirs, eyelids fluttering open, gaze unfocused.] "Thank you for tucking me in," Boar pauses, hoof resting on the dough, expression unreadable. He watches as Wolf sinks back into slumber, a faint smile curving his lips. The pie crust settles with a gentle sigh, sealing Wolf within.

Boar[/@ch_2] hefts the enormous pie and slides it inside, the crust blistering as the temperature rises. Steam fogs the faded window, and the kitchen grows stifling, the metallic tick of the stove the only sound.] Boar leans against the wall, watching the oven with calm anticipation. He wipes his brow and sets out a plate, cutlery gleaming in the gathering light. The smell of roasting meat and sweet vegetables fills the room, bright and terrible.

Boar[/@ch_2] saws a wedge from the pie, juices running, and lifts it to his mouth.] He chews slowly, savoring each bite, eyes closed in quiet rapture. The silence is absolute, save for the soft clink of fork against plate. Boar eats with a gentle, unhurried satisfaction, the scene both peaceful and grotesque. Boar wipes his snout and leans back, contentment settling over him like a blanket, as dusk deepens and the empty kitchen waits for morning.