Chapter Twenty-Two: Among Laughter

The mist had begun to retreat. Sunlight spilled in golden shafts through the trees, turning the forest floor into a dappled mosaic of warmth and frost. For once, the forest did not feel haunted or heavy. Instead, it buzzed with gentle life, and at the center of it all—like a mountain wrapped in silence—sat Jitu beneath his twisted tree. Each day, someone came to see him. And slowly, impossibly, the stillness that once clung to him like a second skin began to shift. On the first day, Simba and Nala sat with him. They kept their voices low, their stories casual, lighthearted. Simba spoke of his cubhood misadventures—chasing beetles into gorges, getting tangled in roots, and the time Rafiki caught him and Nala shoulder-deep in a termite mound. “He still chases bugs,” Nala said, nudging him with a smirk.                     “Do not!” Simba huffed, though laughter tugged at his words. Jitu said nothing, as always. But his ear twitched at the punchline. Just once. A flick, like a blade of grass caught in wind. Nala saw it. So did Simba. And beneath his massive shadow, the silence didn’t feel quite so cold.                                                               A few days later, Kiara bounded into the clearing. She danced around in playful circles, demonstrating her “perfect” pounce. “You’ve got to stay low,” she said, crouching dramatically. “Then—bam!” She leapt at a leaf. Missed entirely. Rolled into the grass laughing. “You ever play like this?” she teased, looking back at Jitu. “Or were you always so… misty?” Jitu didn’t answer. But the faintest sound escaped him—a soft, gravel-deep breath that might’ve been a laugh. Barely audible. But real. From the bushes, Vitani’s jaw dropped. “He just… laughed?” she whispered. “Maybe he’s ticklish,” Tazama said with a mischievous grin. When Timon and Pumbaa arrived, the clearing became a festival of nonsense. Their song echoed through the trees, wild and bright:                                          🎶 "Hakuna Matata! What a wonderful phrase! Hakuna Matata! Ain't no passing craze!" 🎶 Jitu sat still as ever, a monolith of fur and frost, but something in his eyes gleamed—just a little brighter. When Timon tripped and landed face-first into Jitu’s paw, the meerkat squeaked, “Whoa, big guy! Didn't see you there!” Jitu lifted his paw gently, letting Timon climb out. "You ever dance?" Timon asked. Jitu didn’t respond, but tilted his head—slow, subtle. A silent ‘no.’ “Oh, we’ll fix that,” Timon declared, spinning back into the chaos. From the trees, Vitani watched, tail lashing with restrained disbelief. “He just sits there,” she muttered. “Like always.”           “Yeah,” Imara said, “but he’s not running anymore.” Vitani frowned. The thought stuck. Later, Nala arrived with a gift—a pile of berries and fresh herbs, arranged carefully in a circle. “These are the best around,” she said, laying them near Jitu. “Thought you might like some.” Jitu stared at them. Long enough for everyone to assume he’d ignore them. Then he leaned forward, gently picked one up, and ate. Nala beamed. “See? Even quiet ones have a sweet tooth.” From the bushes, Vitani grumbled. “We tried that. Didn’t even sniff it.”       “Maybe he doesn’t like your presentation,” Kasi offered innocently. Vitani groaned and flopped into the grass. On another day, Kovu and Kiara returned with a tiny, bouncing gazelle named Tamu. The moment Tamu laid eyes on Jitu, he froze. “H-He’s so big,” the gazelle whispered, trembling. Jitu slowly lowered himself to the ground, laying his head on his paws. The tension in Tamu’s legs faded. “He’s… not scary?”            “Only if you’re mean to his friends,” Kiara said with a wink.Jitu’s gaze shifted to her. Another subtle ear flick. A quiet thank you.From behind a thicket, Vitani let out a long breath. “This is ridiculous.”         “It’s kind of cute,” Tazama whispered, nudging her. Vitani didn’t respond. But her scowl had softened. Simba challenged him to a race once. “From here to that rock,” the king declared, crouching. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” Jitu didn’t move—at first. Then, without warning, he rose. Crouched. And launched.He was a blur. Silent. Fast.By the time Simba even blinked, Jitu had already touched the rock and was calmly walking back. Simba gaped. “That’s… not fair. ”Kovu was rolling in the grass, laughing. “Fastest elder, huh?” Jitu returned to his tree, unbothered. But there was a flicker in his eyes. A glimmer of playful pride.Vitani watched, stunned. “Did… he show off?” Imara whispered.Vitani’s answer was quiet. “He’s… impossible.” But for the first time, her voice didn’t carry frustration. Just awe—and something almost like admiration. And every day, no matter what, Jitu returned to that tree. He didn’t speak. He didn’t play.But he stayed. And little by little, the clearing no longer felt like a place of ghosts and silence. It felt… like something waiting to bloom.