01 - Chapter 1 - Yama No Utatsu, the dream and the carelessness

The Otter watches the clouds. Nestled in the hollow of the roots of a hundred-year-old oak tree, she enjoyed the gentle rays of the sun that pierced through the dense and light foliage of the forest . While listening to the rustling of the leaves stirred by a light breeze, she admired the budding flowers with half-closed eyes. Around her, insects danced, and the singular scent of the moss offered a setting of nature and serenity.

She was a dreamer, a little different, discreet and joyful. She cared little for the other animals in the forest, their astonished, sometimes suspicious looks, when she amused herself by diving into the water or running in the grass.
It must be said that animals capable of living both on land and in water were not so numerous here. Even frogs and toads preferred to be close to the dampness of the riverbank, and ducks and geese were content to float, less often diving down. She was at ease everywhere, both on land and in the river. She wasn't sure whether the other animals looked at her with envy or suspicion, but deep down, she herself didn't understand why they restricted themselves to a single element.

As she lived, she felt the world, and what she felt often filled her with a peaceful joy, no matter the place.

Thus installed in her favorite spot, she imagined, at that very moment, letting herself be carried by the river. Where could she possibly go? Where did the whispering currents of the stream flee? She had never gone further than the edge of the woods. But she knew, she felt, that the river continued on its way. Far, very far, towards the plains and beyond, much lower than the mountains where she lived. From the roots of the oak, she watched the shimmering, icy water rush towards the horizon.

She had hesitated for a long time.

Leaving the mountain, the family hollow of this welcoming oak, and the reassuring order of the seasons, represented a real challenge.

But for some time now, the river had been whispering to him to follow it. To throw himself with it into the tumult of uncertainties and promises of travel.

At first, she had thought it was a new animal, perhaps a prank by an invisible companion. Then she had believed it was her imagination—and it must be said that her imagination was vast.

Yet the whisper persisted day after day.

Every time the Otter approached the water, the river whispered these mysterious words to him again.

She had looked carefully, no fish, no frog... Only the lapping of the waves.

Intrigued, the Otter stepped forward, more attentive than usual. She listened, both vigilant and curious, and had to face the facts: the murmur was coming from the river, and the river was calling her. A call to leave the beaten track, to let herself be carried by its infinite and shifting bed. A call to come out of the woods, to discover the landscapes beyond, and perhaps... her own destination.

That day, La Loutre had thought long and hard.

She was adventurous, a dreamer, yes. But she had lived most of her adventures in a familiar world—or, for the more perilous ones, in the world of her imagination.

She had never considered going any further.

Yet the geese did leave every year. But they left together. And it seemed less frightening than diving into the unknown alone.
The real question was, will she really be alone?

After all, the river itself spoke. Perhaps it will be his traveling companion?

And if not, perhaps she would meet another otter, as adventurous as she?
Someone who looks like him?

She had decided to wait until winter was over. When the cold would give way to the gentle rays of the sun, and the melted snow would swell the river, making the current more pleasant and swimming more enjoyable.

And it was precisely this day that La Loutre was waiting for, nestled in the hollow of his oak.

And he had finally arrived.

The day of departure.

Then the Otter straightened up and stretched out to his full length.

She grabbed her favorite paintbrush—her precious daydreaming companion—and walked to the water's edge.

With a final breath, she let her supple body slide into the river, savoring that first caress of the icy water on her fur.

Completely submerged, she stretches her fin muscles and enjoys doing some underwater somersaults.

The fish had run away, no doubt worried about becoming her meal, but she wasn't hungry.
Or rather, the hunger she felt was something else entirely: a thirst for discovery, for unknown worlds.

Letting herself go with the flow, she casts a last tender glance towards her old oak tree.

Then, with a graceful movement, she dove, propelled by her powerful legs, cutting through the waves, heading towards the unknown, towards the start of a new adventure.