The boar moves slowly through the brush, her tusks gleaming and eyes sharp, searching for any trace of her old rival. For years, she and the wolf have matched wits beneath these trees, their wild games of pursuit forging a bond as much of respect as of rivalry. Tonight, the forest feels different—a weight hangs in the atmosphere, as though the woods themselves anticipate the next chapter.
the wolf[/@ch_2] rests against the trunk of a fallen tree. His fur is ruffled, and his left hind leg is twisted at an unnatural angle, the injury raw and recent.]
The boar steps into the open, her gaze softening as she takes in the wolf’s limp. The silence between them is heavy, filled with years of shared cunning and narrow escapes. "It's over, old friend," he says, voice low and tired. "You’re hurt. How can I help?" The wolf’s eyes glint, reflecting the moonlight and something deeper—acceptance.
"You can help by cooking me," the wolf replies, with a faint, bittersweet smile. The boar stands silent, sorrow tightening her chest as she realizes the meaning. "If that’s what you want, I will honor it. It is what I would ask if the roles were reversed." Their eyes meet, and in that look is the end of the chase, the closing of a long, wild chapter.
The boar gently shaves the wolf's fur, her movements careful and reverent. The fire crackles, shadows dancing along the walls as she prepares the stew pot. She adds wild leeks, mushrooms, and root vegetables, each chosen with care. All the while, a silence lingers, filled with memories and the ache of farewell.
The boar sits beside the pot, her eyes reflecting the flames, thinking of every chase, every shared glance in the wild. She tastes the stew, its flavor rich with history, sorrow, and respect. In the corner, she carefully arranges the wolf’s bones, marking their resting place with a circle of white stones and wildflowers—a quiet tribute to a worthy adversary.
The boar stands over the marked spot, her head bowed, honoring all that came before. She knows the forest will remember the wolf—the chase, the cunning, the respect that bound them. And as she turns to face the day, she carries with her the legacy of their rivalry, woven into her heart and into the soil beneath her hooves.
