The ewe trotted over the soft grass, a basket of fresh greens dangling from her mouth. Her ears twitched with anticipation as she approached her new neighbors, hoping to make a friendly impression. "How lovely it will be to meet everyone at last," she murmured, glancing at the trio of homes with curiosity.

The ewe stopped abruptly, her hooves crunching on broken twigs. The straw house had collapsed entirely, and the stick house lay in splinters. Not a sound came from either ruin, not even the squeal of a frightened pig. "Oh dear... What could have happened here?" she whispered, heart pounding with unease.

Steeling herself, the ewe tiptoed toward the brick house. She peered inside and saw a wolf sprawled across the hearth rug, snoring loudly. His belly bulged grotesquely, stretching his gray fur tight, while crumbs and piggy pink tails poked from his jaws. "So that's where they've gone," she muttered, her concern hardening into resolve.

Quiet as the morning mist, the ewe worked quickly. She deftly hogtied the sleeping wolf, then shaved him clean in wide, determined strokes. Flour dusted her wool as she rolled out a golden pie crust, humming a tune of victory. "You won't trouble the neighborhood again," she declared, seasoning chopped carrots, onions, and potatoes before lining the pie dish.

The wolf's eyes fluttered open, confusion twisting his snout. He thrashed weakly but could not break free as the ewe hoisted him into the pie. She tucked the crust neatly over him, sealing the edges with practiced care. "You ate my neighbors," she said, voice steely, "Now it's only fair you become the meal." The oven door slammed shut.

The ewe devoured slice after slice, savoring the flavors of triumph. Only a few crumbs remained as she licked her lips, feeling a righteous sense of validation. Yet a shadow lingered in her mind, and she glanced at the plate, uncertain. "How much of that pie was wolf... and how much was pig?" she wondered, the question echoing softly as the candles flickered low.