Inside the rustic eatery, the air is filled with the aroma of sizzling vegetables and roasted herbs. Two pig brothers, Hamlet, the rotund head cook with a crisp white apron, and Bramble, the lean, sharp-eyed manager, move with practiced ease among the tables. Laughter and clinking glasses fill the space, but a sudden hush falls as the heavy oak door creaks open. There, silhouetted against the night, stands Wolfgang, a tall, gray-furred wolf with a sly smile and hungry eyes.
Bramble offers a cordial smile, masking his nerves, and gestures toward a table near the kitchen. Hamlet and Bramble exchange a subtle nod, a silent agreement passing between them. "Welcome, sir. We’re honored to have you. Please, make yourself comfortable," Bramble says, his tone smooth as honey. Wolfgang nods curtly, his gaze lingering on the kitchen doors, but sits where he is led.
Hamlet emerges from the kitchen, arms laden with steaming plates—herb-crusted potatoes, wild mushroom stew, spiced apple tarts, and more. Bramble hovers attentively, refilling Wolfgang's wineglass and offering samples with a flourish. "Your generosity is...unusual," Wolfgang remarks, licking his chops and tearing into a savory pie. "We believe every guest deserves a feast to remember," Hamlet replies, his eyes never leaving the wolf’s.
Bramble discreetly motions to Hamlet, who wipes his hands and approaches the sleeping wolf. Two stout pig waiters appear, and together they gently lift Wolfgang from his seat. The other diners exchange glances and, almost as one, begin to hum a slow, solemn tune—“Taps”—their faces somber, eyes shining in the candlelight. The procession moves toward the kitchen, shadows stretching long across the floor.
Hamlet lays Wolfgang gently upon the butcher’s block, his expression grave. Bramble bolts the kitchen door, his hands steady as he retrieves a recipe card from his pocket. "For all the pigs who came before us," Hamlet whispers, lifting his chef’s knife with reverence. He begins to work, his movements precise and practiced, while Bramble tends the fire, the flames reflected in his determined eyes.
The tables are full again, laughter and music filling the space. Behind the counter, Hamlet carves slices from a golden-brown roast, sliding them onto plates with practiced care. Bramble welcomes new guests with a broad smile, his ledger open and pen poised. Above the kitchen door, a new recipe is displayed in elegant script: “Wolf au Vin—House Specialty.” The pigs’ restaurant is safer than ever, its secret safe behind warm smiles and hearty meals.
