In the depth of the forest, a great chase of life and death took place before the very eyes of a young boy. A doe, graceful even in her panic, frantically ran from a large brown wolf. Hopping over rotting logs and tree roots, she sped through the foliage like an arrow.
But it was all for naught. As with everything, she inevitably tired and tripped. Struggling to get up, jagged teeth tore into her exposed side. The wolf ripped her flesh from her body and blood gushed from the wound. It was fatal, and she knew it.
Quietly waiting behind a tree, the boy had finally caught up with them. He cringed at the feeble cries for help but stayed put.
He could feel her life force draining rapidly and only hoped that her suffering would be short-lived.
Hunger sated and belly full, the wolf finally walked away from the ravaged form of the deer. Only when it was out of sight did the boy emerge from his hiding place. He hesitated for only a second before cautiously stepping towards the fallen doe.
Amazingly, she was still alive, if just barely. Every shallow breath was a struggle, and pain filled her large brown eyes. The boy offered comfort in the form of a hand gently stroking her head. She flinched at the foreign touch, but he continued with his task anyway.
He longed to take her pain away in any way he could. By now her eyes had closed and her breaths rattled in her lungs. Taking pity, the boy pulled out a knife of bone and swiftly cut her throat.
The cut bled weakly, showing how much she'd lost earlier, and her chakra signature vanished.
Despite having just ended her life, the boy still tenderly stroked her head. Moving to his knees, he put his hands together to pray for the doe.
"Thank you... for offering your meat to the howler, your skin to me and your body to the forest. Rest well."
Having said his part, he took up his knife once more and carefully severed the pelt from the carcass, not minding the lukewarm blood coating his hands in the least.
He also took a bit of the leftover meat while he was at it. His diet mainly consisted of fish and plant life, so venison was a rare treat. He never ate in excess, and only killed when necessary.
The boy gingerly stood up, then set off towards his den. He walked in a zigzag pattern to throw off any pursuers and collected leaves and berries in a small pouch as he passed by.
Here in the forest, there was a system; always the unspoken rule governing the wildlife. "Only take as much as you give." Every creature, no matter how big or small, followed this rule in some way. Although "moderation" didn't seem to be in most humans' vocabulary, this lifestyle suited the boy perfectly.
He'd grown up this way after all.
He couldn't remember if he had ever lived with The People beyond the forest. Every once in a while he would go down to the forests' edge to observe The People, but never did he reveal himself. It wasn't that he was particularly afraid of them, only that they lived differently from him.
From his research of sorts, he started listening to the way they communicated with each other, carefully imitating the sounds later in his den and practicing with Father. He had learned of their burial ceremonies, took notes on the hand movements that made fire or water appear out of thin air, and watched how they used tools to aid them in various ways.
The first time he was playing with his hands like the people he'd seen, he produced a large ball of fire that flew into one of the trees, scorching the bark.
He didn't like it. It hurt the trees.
The boy didn't know if The People could hear the trees or not. If they did, why did they cut them? Why would they burn them alive or knock them over simply because they were "in the way?" No, he decided. The People could not hear the cries of The Forest.
The boy then looked up towards the canopy. The sun would be leaving soon. That was fine. He was almost to his den anyway. He checked his pouch to make sure he had enough berries for his last meal. It was a bit short, but it would tide him over for the night.
As the trees grew almost unnoticeably thinner, he knew he would be home soon.
Soon enough he came upon a large gnarled tree. In the nest of its roots was the entrance to his den.
He remembered when he'd come upon it when it was just a sapling. He had grown too old but still too weak to remain with the pack of wolves he'd been staying with and had no place for himself.
He was cold and tired from looking for a new den when he came upon a small sprig of a tree. He envied that a tree could easily make a home for itself in the warm, compact soil of the forest.
He remembered imagining the warmth of the soil, wishing he could be there too. His want was so great that he felt a tug at his core before the small sprout grew before his very eyes.
The trunk thickened, branches reached out for the sky and gnarled roots grew to make a cradle for him.
There he slept, safely tucked away for the moment, curled in the safety of the tree's almost affectionate limbs.
He didn't know when exactly he'd made a home of the tree, only that it was there now.
Since that day the tree has felt a certain fondness for the boy that almost certainly decided its survival. In such a dense forest and as a small shrub of a tree, it had grown uncertain of its chances against the competition. That's why it had no qualms about being the key to the boy's survival.
It had no fruit, so this was the most it could offer.
And the boy understood that. So he gladly took the silent offering, and slowly started bringing pelts and furs back to warm them. Eventually, he dug further underground to escape the wind and made a larger living space for himself beneath the tree's root system.
For 7 years he has lived here, and he doesn't plan to stay anywhere else.
/
So this was gonna be a fic where Naruto finds solace in the Forest of Death after the war, but then my history class went over the ages before the agricultural revolution where humans lived as hunters and foragers, and this was born. I'm kind of proud of this for some reason...
Thinkin' it'll have some ShikaNaru or Narushika.
And also, I know it's repetitive to call Naruto "The Boy," but there's a reason for that. He himself has no name, so he isn't "Naruto" yet. Make sense? No? You'll just have to roll with it.
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you'll tune-in in the future!