The wolf pads quietly up the stone path, his fur bristling with anticipation. He pushes the heavy door open with a clawed paw, stepping into the warm, inviting interior. The scent of fresh bread and herbs fills the air, but something feels off—too quiet, almost expectant.
The third pig crouches behind the armchair, gripping a heavy frying pan. His eyes are sharp, his stance determined. As the wolf steps further in, the pig springs up, swinging the pan with all his might.
"You picked the wrong house, wolf!"
The pan connects with a dull thud, and the wolf collapses, darkness swallowing him.
the wolf[/@ch_1], pinning him to a sturdy spit positioned above glowing embers.]
The wolf groans awake, confusion flooding his senses. His fur is gone, replaced by a sheen of oil and a dusting of fragrant herbs. The third pig stands nearby, apron donned, inspecting his handiwork.
"What...what is happening?"
"You’re about to learn why you never mess with a brick house," the pig replies, voice cold and resolute.
The third pig hums a jaunty tune as he seasons the wolf, the tension replaced by a chilling sense of triumph. Outside, the other pigs peek through the window, their faces a mixture of awe and vindication.
"Is it really happening? The wolf—he’s done for!"
"He is. Tonight, we feast, and tomorrow, we live without fear."
The wolf twists weakly, but the bonds hold firm. He watches the pigs gather around, their eyes bright with excitement and relief. The flames flare, golden and fierce, as the pig turns the spit for even cooking.
The third pig carves into the meat, serving generous portions to his siblings. They eat with gusto, laughter echoing through the sturdy brick walls. The wolf’s reign of terror is over, replaced by a new era of safety and celebration.
"To clever thinking and strong bricks," the third pig toasts, raising his mug high. The others join in, their hearts light, knowing they have outwitted the greatest threat they ever faced.
