Henry the Hippo was not in the mood for company. His ears twitched as a dragonfly buzzed by, but he barely glanced up. The other animals kept their distance, wary of his famous temper.

Milo the Meerkat, boldest of the group, scampered up to Henry and grinned. "Good morning, Henry! Why the long face?" "It’s too noisy, too bright, and everyone keeps bothering me," grumbled Henry, shifting his bulk and sending a wave splashing over the meerkats.

Zara the Zebra stepped too close for comfort. "Careful, Henry! There's plenty of space for all of us," "I liked it better when it was quiet," muttered Henry. He glared at the newcomers, wishing everyone would just leave him alone.

Tobias the Turtle settled beside Henry. "Sometimes, a hippo just needs to talk," he said gently. "Is there something troubling you, Henry?" "I suppose I just miss the peace and quiet," admitted Henry, his voice softer now.

Henry looked around at his neighbors, realizing he was not as alone as he thought. Milo tiptoed up and sat quietly by his side. "We like you, even when you’re grumpy. Maybe we can be quiet together sometimes." "That sounds... nice," murmured Henry, a small smile breaking through his grumpy facade.

Henry settled into the water, surrounded by friends who understood him. The river flowed quietly, and for the first time in a long while, Henry was content—grumpiness and all.