Jason stands at the chopping block, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over the countertop. His small, piggish eyes scan the kitchen, their glint betraying a hunger not easily sated. Across the room, Wolf sits on a sturdy wooden stool, wrists bound, silvery fur bristling in the firelight.

Jason steps toward Wolf, brandishing a straight razor and a bowl of soapy water. With slow, deliberate strokes, he shaves away the wolf’s fur, revealing pale, trembling skin beneath. Clumps of silver pile at their feet, and the air fills with the scent of lye and fear. "You don’t have to do this, Jason. There are other things to eat," "But nothing warms the soul like a proper wolf stew," murmurs Jason, his voice rich and unwavering.

Jason leans over the pot, inhaling deeply as steam rises to fog his spectacles. He grinds salt with a mortar and pestle, the rhythmic scrape echoing through the quiet. Wolf shifts on the stool, his eyes fixed on the bubbling water, resignation etched in every line of his face.

Jason[/@ch_1] approaches, his apron spotless and his movements gentle, almost reverent.] Jason unties Wolf, guiding him carefully to the edge of the pot. With a strength both kind and unyielding, he lowers Wolf into the rolling broth. Wolf does his best to stretch out, seeking comfort among the spices, his breath rising in quick clouds of steam. "It’s… not as hot as I thought it would be," "It’ll get there, my friend. Patience is the secret to a rich stew,"

Jason[/@ch_1] turns to his chopping block, slicing carrots, onions, and potatoes with precise, practiced motions. He hums a low tune as he sweeps the vegetables into the pot, each thud marking the passage of time.] The broth grows cloudier, flecked with bits of green and orange. From within, the occasional bubble escapes, breaking the surface with a quiet pop. Wolf sinks deeper into the warmth, his ears drooping as the flavors meld and the outside world fades.

Jason sits alone at the table, spoon in hand, savoring the first mouthful of his creation. The broth is rich, the wolf meat tender, and the vegetables sweet from long simmering. He closes his eyes, letting the warmth fill him as the flavors linger, content in the quiet triumph of a meal well made.