Ewen, the proud father sheep, his wool meticulously combed and a chef’s hat perched askew, brandishes a rolling pin while commanding the kitchen. Mara, the mother, sports an apron embroidered with tiny sheep, bustling between chopping leeks and corralling her younger lambs. Lila, the eldest daughter, stands at the counter, her fleece nervously fluffed, eyes wide with anticipation and dread. Finn and Pippa, the mischievous twins, dart between the adults, giggling and sneaking carrot slices. Grandma Baa, ancient and sharp-eyed, sits in her rocking chair near the hearth, knitting and offering unsolicited wisdom. "All right, everyone! This is not just any pie—this is a legacy! Lila, are you ready for your first wolf pie?" "Ready as I'll ever be, Dad. Does it always smell...this wild?" "Maybe it's you, Lila. Maybe you’re the wild one now!" "In my day, the wolf still had his teeth. You lot have it easy."

"Remember, Lila, tasting wolf is about facing what hunts us. We conquer it, together." "But what if I don't like the taste?" "You don't eat wolf for taste, girl. You eat it for backbone." "I dare you to eat the paw!" "Enough, you two. Help me tuck in the onions—wolf likes company." "And carrots for sweetness—balance, like life." Lila hesitates, then gently tucks a sprig of thyme behind the wolf’s ear, earning a round of approving nods.

"You know, your great-grandfather was the first to bake a wolf whole. Before that, it was stew. Less dramatic, more fur." "Lila, weave the last strip. It’s your rite." Lila, hands trembling, lays the final dough strip. The family pauses, holding their breath as Mara brushes the crust with egg. "Hope he doesn’t howl in the oven!" "If he does, I’m blaming you, Finn."

"Every family has its wolves, Lila. Today, we make ours a memory." "Time to set the table. Plates ready—forks sharp." "If she faints, call me first. I’ve waited seventy years for this drama." Lila sits, eyes fixed on the oven, heart pounding with dread and pride.

Ewen[/@ch_1] carves a slice, revealing a hint of wolf’s snout among the tender vegetables. The family crowds in, forks poised.] "To Lila—she faces the wolf and becomes one of us." "A bite for courage, a bite for wisdom, a bite for family." Lila takes her first bite, eyes squeezed shut. She chews, the flavor wild and unfamiliar, then grins through a mouthful. "Tastes...like victory. And maybe a little thyme." "And a lot of wolf breath!" "Welcome to the flock, girl. May your wolves always be well-seasoned."