Cries of the Forest

12

It had been far too long since Naruto had visited King. Having proclaimed him to be his father, it made him feel a bit guilty and realize that despite the excuses of stress and socializing, he still should have visited at least once or twice.

Thus, he was nearly apprehensive of when he would arrive at the river, (and his internal compass told him it would be too soon for his liking.) 

Nevertheless, he didn't dawdle when he saw the tree break. 

As always, the shoreline was littered with animals, both large and small, all resting peacefully. There were a few daring individuals assisting in grooming or exchanging small gifts of nuts or fruits. And at the center of it all, was King. The clouds always seemed to break apart to illuminate him in the sun's rays despite how dark and cold they normally were, an ethereal sight when most of his scales reflected gold or copper. 

A few small birds were perched on his antlers, and he looked down to see a shoal of fish swimming under his resting form. 

It looked to be a hunter's dream, but violence was absolutely forbidden, and you'd do well to remember that or suffer the point of a horn. King was overall very gentle, but he also had a very rigid moral code as The Forest's protector. 

And while this picturesque scene might have captivated others, Naruto was used to it by now. Not to say that it was any less beautiful, but there was nothing stopping him from continuing on his own business, going to the river as he'd intended. 

While he could feel the stares of King and his subjects, he squatted down and began the process of washing his pelts. 

One had to be a bit delicate in their handling, as the base of it was simply dried skin. (He'd, unfortunately, learned that through trial and error, and lost a few good skins because of his carelessness.) 

The process was a little slow going with how large they were combined with his hands shaking from nervousness, but there wasn't much for him to do other than let the water run its course and gently scrub the fur to loosen any dirt or grime. Slowly, one after the other, he made his way through his little pile, gently hanging them on the lower branches of various trees to dry. Then he set about washing himself.

This was much easier, (if colder,) than caring for his pelts. At least his skin wasn't constantly at risk of tearing. His favorite part was always washing his hair, by diving under the water and scrubbing at the light strands. 

Most times he would keep his eyes open and just enjoy the lives of the fish.

There would always be the occasional bout of envy at the fluid movements of those swarms of fish, how easily they seem to move through the currents without a care in the world. But then he remembers when he tried to imitate them before he could simply walk upon the water, and that swimming was even more taxing than running. Then he was perfectly content with swinging through the canopy. Didn't mean he didn't sometimes swim for the sake of swimming or to cool off, just that he enjoyed his way of life as it was.

And that's okay, isn't it? To have no desire for more than what you have? It's not a common behavior he's seen thus far in The People, but it's also always been them and him. He'd always been different.

Thinking of it this way made him more apprehensive of Shikamaru's plans, and confused him even more. He wanted to stay with his closest friend but didn't want to leave his forest. And being constantly surrounded by People sounded unpleasant, their presence and customs suffocating.

Maybe he should talk to Father about this? He'd always been the wisest, always willing to lead him to a new path of thought and teach him new things.