Two wolves lounge side by side near the warmth of the fire, their fur catching the ember’s glow. The crackling flames illuminate their tired eyes as they share a rare moment of peace, paws stretched comfortably toward the heat. The only sounds are the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional snap of a twig in the underbrush.
From the shadows, a slender doe emerges, her coat dappled with silver moonlight. Her movements are silent, hooves barely making a sound as she edges closer to the unsuspecting wolves. She narrows her eyes, calculating, then suddenly lunges between them, her strength and speed belying her delicate appearance.
With a swift, practiced motion, the doe grabs both wolves by the scruffs of their necks. She knocks their heads together with a resounding crack, and their bodies go limp, unconscious from the blow. The fire pops as a log collapses, sending a wave of embers into the cool night.
She pulls them through tangled ferns and brambles, her breath steady, determined. The forest grows darker, the only light now the faint glimmer of her eyes and the occasional shaft of moonlight. Branches snap underfoot, but the doe does not falter, her destination clear.
The doe hauls the wolves into her encampment, her hooves sure on the packed earth. She binds them tightly to a sturdy spit, her work swift and efficient. The fire crackles hungrily, casting dancing shadows over the scene, as the scent of smoke and wild herbs fills the air.
The doe sits back, watching as the wolves begin to roast, the firelight painting her face with a determined satisfaction. Her eyes glint with triumph, knowing tonight’s meal is hard-earned. The stars above shimmer, bearing silent witness to the reversal of roles in this wild, untamed world.
