The wolf lounges next to the table, her thick gray fur ruffled and stained with wine. She tips a bottle of cherry wine to her lips, crimson drops streaking her snout. The crane, with elegant white feathers and a surgeon’s precision, stands behind her, sharpening the razor on a stone, his eyes glinting with focus.
"Another glass, please. I want the flavor to soak all the way through," the wolf slurs, her voice mellow, a dreamy smile on her face.
"Of course, my dear. The tastier you are, the happier my family will be," the crane replies, pouring a generous measure into her wooden cup.
The crane shaves the wolf's back, smoothing patch after patch, revealing pale skin beneath. Shorn tufts float away on the breeze. The wolf sits perfectly still, her eyes half-closed, lost in the sensation and the fog of inebriation.
"You’re quite gentle. I hardly feel a thing,"
"I take pride in my work. Nothing but the best for our main course,"
The crane offers a steadying wing as the wolf clambers into the wok, her steps slow but unresistant. The scent of cherry wine grows richer, mingling with the aroma of herbs scattered at the wok’s base. The wolf nestles in, sighing as the warmth envelops her.
"I never imagined I’d end up like this. Still, it smells divine,"
"You’ll be the most delicious dish our family has ever tasted. Rest easy now,"
The aroma is almost intoxicating, the combination of fruit, herbs, and meat merging in the air. The wolf smiles peacefully, her senses filled with the promise of flavor. She closes her eyes, savoring every moment as the heat seeps into her bones.
"So this is what it means to become a taste, not just a taste for blood," she murmurs, a contented chuckle escaping her lips.
The cranes pick up slices of the wolf’s tender meat, their feathers ruffling in delight. The youngest chicks peck eagerly, juice dripping down their beaks. The cherry wine glaze glistens in the fire’s glow, drawing sighs of satisfaction from all.
"To the wolf, who gave herself willingly. May we honor this gift in every bite,"
The moon rises, silvering the scene, and a sense of peaceful finality settles over the woodland. The crane gathers the bones and arranges them with care, a silent tribute to a meal both somber and sublime. The wolf’s smile lingers, even in memory, with the promise that she was, at last, truly tasty.
