Ewegene, the sheep, stands tall by the heavy kitchen door, her wool meticulously trimmed and apron spotless. The clink of iron as she tightens the wolf's bindings echoes through the room, each knot purposeful, her hooves surprisingly deft. Her eyes glint with intelligence, and a sly smile tugs at her lips as she admires her handiwork. "Not so fearsome now, are you?" She flicks her ear, a note of irony woven into each word. "Predators never expect the feast to fight back."

Ewegene sets a heavy chopping board on the table, her hooves surprisingly precise as she slices vegetables with practiced ease. Each chop resounds with confidence; carrot coins tumble, garlic is crushed, and ginger grated into fragrant piles. She opens her spice cabinet, inhaling deeply, the scents of star anise, cracked black pepper, and sesame oil swirling around her. "Balance is the secret—savory, sweet, and just a hint of heat," she mutters, measuring soy sauce and honey with the care of a master chef. "Tonight, the tables truly have turned."

With a flourish, Ewegene drizzles oil into the wok, the sizzle sharp and immediate. She adds the vegetables, stirring briskly, the sound crisp and rhythmic. The aroma of caramelizing garlic and ginger thickens the air, joined by the pungent tang of soy and the sweet undercurrent of honey as she whisks together a glossy teriyaki sauce. "Who knew a sheep could master the art of teriyaki?" she laughs quietly, gaze flicking to the muzzled wolf. "You always underestimated me, but then—so did everyone else."

Ewegene carefully transfers the wolf, now resigned and silent, into the bubbling wok. The sizzle is thunderous, fragrant steam rising as the teriyaki sauce envelops the meat. She tosses in the vegetables, watching the colors brighten and meld, her eyes shining with an unspoken satisfaction. "A recipe for poetic justice, simmered to perfection," she murmurs, stirring the contents with a kind of reverence. "Perhaps next time, you'll think twice before prowling my pastures."

Ewegene arranges the food with care, her every motion deliberate and full of pride. She inhales deeply, savoring the accomplishment, then lifts the first bite to her mouth. The flavors burst across her tongue—sweet, salty, complex—a true triumph of wit over brawn. "To the prey who outsmarted the hunter," she toasts herself quietly, raising her fork as the lantern light flickers. "May all meals taste this victorious."

She leans back, wool illuminated in the lantern’s glow, her eyes both thoughtful and amused. The world outside is wild and uncertain, but tonight, in her rustic kitchen, justice has been served—and savored. She allows herself a small, satisfied smile, already dreaming of her next culinary conquest.