Waldo the Wolf stepped into the clearing, his silver fur catching the sunshine. Across the grass, two goats, Greta and Pip, stood beside an enormous iron waffle press. The air was thick with the scent of batter and anticipation.
"I’ve given this much thought, dear friends," he said, voice steady. "Are you truly sure?" Greta asked, her hoof tapping nervously.
Waldo sat calmly on a wooden stool while Greta gently shaved away his fur, collecting the silvery strands in a basket. Pip mixed waffle batter in a large bowl, adding a pinch of cinnamon for warmth. The process was slow, deliberate, and filled with quiet reverence.
"I want to be the best meal you’ve ever tasted," Waldo said, a serene smile on his face. "We’ll honor you, Waldo," replied Pip, voice trembling with gratitude.
Greta and Pip gently lifted Waldo and placed him inside the opened waffle iron, his skin now bare and pale. They ladled batter over him, careful not to miss a single spot, working together in harmonious silence. Steam began to rise, mingling with the scents of pine and baked sweetness.
"Are you comfortable?" Greta whispered, brushing batter from Waldo’s cheek. "Never been better," he replied, voice soft and content.
Pip watched anxiously as the waffle iron hissed and steamed, a gentle breeze carrying the scent far into the woods. Greta set the table with plates and napkins, her eyes shining with both excitement and sorrow. The sun dipped lower, coloring everything in hues of amber.
"He’s giving us a gift," Pip murmured. "Let’s savor it, together."
Greta lifted the lid, her breath catching at the sight of the perfectly crisped edges and inviting aroma. Pip carefully plated the wolf waffle, drizzling honey over its surface. They gazed at their creation, eyes misty with emotion.
"Thank you, Waldo," she whispered, voice trembling. "Bon appétit, my friends," came Waldo’s gentle echo, lingering in the twilight air.
Greta and Pip savor each bite, the flavors rich and comforting, a perfect blend of wildness and warmth. As they eat, the meadow feels sacred—quiet, safe, and full of memories. They share stories of Waldo’s kindness, laughter mingling with the night breeze.
"He’ll always be with us," Pip said softly. Greta nodded, wiping away a tear, as the lantern flickered on, casting gentle shadows across the empty stool.
