The Wolf, round and silver-furred, stretches his limbs lazily, his belly rising and falling in contented rhythm. A chorus of timid whispers rustles nearby as a dozen Rabbits peek from behind tangled brambles, their noses twitching in both fear and determination.
"There he is—the notorious wolf! But look how relaxed he seems. Do you think we can finally catch him?"
"Why, little friends, what brings you out on such a lovely day?"
The Rabbits inch nearer, forming a hesitant circle around the Wolf, who makes no move to run or snarl. His tail wags playfully, and his eyes shine with an almost conspiratorial glint.
"We’ve come to catch you, Wolf! You’ve been a terror to our warren for too long," one rabbit declares, puffing out his chest.
"Oh my, you have caught me! What clever rabbits you are," the wolf replies, not budging an inch.
With a clumsy but determined effort, the Rabbits toss the net over the Wolf. He chuckles, making no attempt to escape, and even helps by tucking his paws beneath him. The moment feels almost like a game, but an undercurrent of seriousness laces the rabbits’ voices.
"There, you’re our prisoner now. No more chasing or tricking," another rabbit says, triumph in her voice.
"Just tell me, will there be pie for supper?"
The Rabbits bustle about, seasoning a great clay pie dish. The Wolf, still jovial, sits in the center, humming a merry tune as they prepare him for the oven. His eyes crinkle with laughter, though a flicker of sadness darts across his muzzle.
"Are you truly not afraid, Wolf?" asks the smallest rabbit, pausing with a sprig of thyme in her paw.
"Not at all, little one. Every story must end, and I’ve had my share of fun," he replies softly.
The Rabbits, now somber, gather around the table as slices are served. Each bite is rich and savory, filled with memories of mischief and chase. The Wolf’s presence lingers in the laughter and stories the rabbits share, but his jolly voice is heard no more.
"He never tried to run. He was laughing until the very end," one rabbit murmurs, a strange weight in his words.
The Rabbits wake to a quiet world, their victory tinged with melancholy. The meadow feels different now, the games of chase replaced by a strange, empty peace. Somewhere, a breeze rattles the oak leaves, and for a moment, the rabbits imagine hearing the Wolf’s laughter rolling through the dawn.
