A procession of deer, muscles tense and eyes ablaze with purpose, drag a battered pack of wolves into the center of the square. The wolves, tangled in ropes and brambles, snarl and struggle, but the deer move with practiced unity. The air is crisp, tinged with the last chill of night and a sense of mounting anticipation. A crowd begins to gather, their whispers blending with the morning mist.
The head wolf, fur matted and eyes sharp, lifts his muzzle defiantly from his restraints.
"What do you plan to do with us?"
The deer remain silent, their gazes icy and unyielding. With swift, disciplined movements, they begin to tie the wolves to sturdy spits arranged around a broad fire pit at the heart of the square.
One of the oldest deer, his antlers adorned with woven ribbons, begins to shave the wolves’ fur with careful strokes. The scraping sound mingles with the crackling fire and the murmurs of the crowd. As they work, a young doe speaks, her voice clear and unwavering.
"We had planned to roast the goats you stole for our festival feast," she says, pausing to sprinkle salt and wild thyme over the exposed flesh, "but since you took them, we must adjust our menu."
The deer take turns basting the wolves, their faces illuminated by firelight, unwavering in their task. The wolves, now resigned to their fate, fall silent as the heat intensifies. The festival musicians begin to play, their melodies swirling around the square, mingling with the sizzle and pop from the spits.
Plates are piled high with savory roasted meat, and the deer serve their guests with pride. The festival continues as planned—dancing, singing, and games filling the square. Children chase each other beneath the lanterns strung from antlers and branches, their laughter ringing out into the night.
As the crowd disperses, the deer gather quietly near the fire, their eyes reflecting both exhaustion and resolve. The festival has ended, but its message lingers: justice, unity, and the strength to adapt in the face of adversity. The village rests, safe for another year, beneath the watchful gaze of the woodland guardians.
