Pig One, the eldest and wisest, brushes soot from his snout, glancing at his brothers with grim determination. Pig Two, the anxious middle pig, shivers despite the safety of the brick walls. Pig Three, the youngest, clenches his hooves, anger simmering beneath his pink skin. "He’ll never stop coming for us. We can’t just wait for him to try again," "But what can we do? He’s still out there, licking his wounds," "Then we hunt him first. Tonight. We end this,"

Their quarry’s scent is fresh—wet fur, musk, and fear. The brothers exchange silent nods, hearts pounding as they close in on a thin trail of paw prints along the muddy forest floor. "He’s close. Don’t lose your nerve now," "I won’t. Just keep your eyes open,"

Wolf, wild-eyed and furious, thrashes in their grip, but the pigs work together, binding his limbs and silencing his snarls with a tight gag. "You thought you could terrorize us. Now it’s your turn to be afraid," "Mmmph! Mmmph!" The wolf’s muffled protests echo into the night, unanswered.

Pig One sprinkles salt and herbs over the trembling wolf, his face expressionless. Pig Three sharpens a long knife, his eyes shining with anticipation. Pig Two assembles root vegetables and apples, arranging them artfully around the fire. "He tried to make a meal of us. It’s only fair," "Let’s see how wolf tastes with rosemary and thyme,"

Laughter bubbles up, mingled with relief and a dark satisfaction. The wolf’s bones crack and snap as the pigs feast, the echoes swallowed by the blackness beyond the fire’s glow. "Who knew he’d be so tender? We should do this more often," "There are other threats out there. We’ll be ready,"

Inside, the pigs clean their hooves and sharpen their knives, the scent of victory lingering on their breath. They settle into their sturdy home, eyes open to the world, ready for whatever—or whoever—dares to threaten them next. "Rest now, brothers. Tomorrow, we hunt again,"