The Goat circles the cage, her hooves crunching on autumn leaves. The air smells of smoke and apples. The Wolf, caught and bewildered, presses his nose against the bars, his yellow eyes wide with disbelief.
"Let me go, please! This is not how the story should end,"
"Oh, but tonight, the story is mine to tell," The Goat replies, her voice calm and resolute.
The Goat methodically shaves the wolf's fur, the soft gray tufts piling beside her. She hums a lilting tune, her movements precise and unhurried. The Wolf shudders at every cold scrape, his teeth bared in silent protest.
"Is there no mercy for a hungry wolf?"
"Tonight, mercy is as scarce as forgiveness," she responds, brushing apple slices with cinnamon sugar.
The Goat[/@ch_1] lines a deep pie dish with a golden crust. The wolf, now bare-skinned and meek, is gently settled into the pastry, his body curled to fit.]
The sliced cinnamon-sugar apples are layered atop him, their sweet aroma mingling with the savory air. The Goat works silently, sealing the top crust with nimble hooves and leaving a neat hole for The Wolf's muzzle. The kitchen is quiet, save for the rustle of pastry and the wolf's shallow breaths.
"I never imagined I'd be the feast," he whispers, voice trembling.
"All debts are paid, in one way or another," she replies, her gaze unwavering.
The Goat[/@ch_1] lifts the pie, heavy and fragrant, and carries it with care. She places a bright red apple in The Wolf's mouth, a final flourish.]
Steam curls from the crust as the pie is slid into the oven. The heat radiates, filling the kitchen with the scent of baking apples and pastry. The Goat wipes her hooves on her apron and closes the oven door, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames.
The Goat[/@ch_1] waits at the table, her expression unreadable, the whole room awash in warmth and anticipation.]
Outside, the forest is silent, the moon rising above the ancient trees. The Wolf's presence lingers, a fading memory within the oven’s glowing heart. The pie is at last ready, its surface glistening with caramelized sugar.
The Goat[/@ch_1] serves herself a generous slice of the sweet wolf pie. The filling steams, rich with apple and spice, the remnants of her adversary now part of the meal.]
The Goat savors each bite, her satisfaction quiet but complete. She gazes out the window as she eats, the forest now peaceful under the stars. In the hush of her kitchen, the tale has ended—one predator humbled, another feasting, the balance of the woods restored.
