The lion roared at no one in particular. He loved the sound of his own voice, which could've actually been a good thing if he was an artist; artists thrive from their need and ability to listen to themselves. It's not entirely fair, the lion was an artist of sorts, he just wasn't truly aware of his own artistry.
The other creatures in the forest certainly were. They knew him as a great artist. What was his specialty? Fear. Terror. Submission to his will. This was his art. All cowered at the sound of his voice. They did what he wanted, when he wanted it done, to either great reward, or great punishment, or sometimes both. Capriciousness only added to lion's mystique, and art.
One day, several creatures that the lion summoned didn't show. Unheard-of.
He went crazy with his roaring and he spread fear with his awful actions, and yet over time less and less of his subjects came.
Until one day no one came; for there was another king in the forest who had revealed himself.
The capybara sat by a deep cool pool of water, not particularly worried about anything or anyone. He wasn't even so concerned with himself. A creature approached him and he looked up from his nap and said, both to himself and the being who stood in front of him, "well . . . what a beautiful and curious creature you are!" And with that, the capybara fell back asleep. The creature was astonished and felt so comfortable, that he too took a nap, and even snuggled in next to the capybara! The little creature awoke as he sensed other creatures around him. He was so scared. He had forgotten the terror of the lion, and suddenly realized he was vulnerable, but as he was getting ready to run for his very life, he noticed other creatures who were also either playing in the pool or napping. The small quiet creature fell back asleep.
Well, you probably see the conflict.
The lion came with his roar and his terror and his self involved cruelty. He came to put an end to the capybara once and for all time. As not only had he lost control of the forest, but it had eaten into his business profits at a terrible rate! He arrived at the pool and screamed "I am the king! All who remain here shall die by my hand!" He said other things too, but they were really not pleasant, so in the great lazy spirit of the capybara, I'll skip the details.
When he noticed that he was tired from yelling, he actually looked at what was in front of him. A great pool of animals large and small. They had barely noticed him. They were napping, playing, eating, thinking, meditating, praying, loving, and doing a whole lot of interesting things, which were at worst harmless. The lion realized that he didn't stand a chance, not against those numbers.
For all manner of creatures had gathered, and those who came, always stayed in the joyous and sweet realm of the capybara.
At long last, there was no one left in the forest who paid the lion the slightest attention. The animals of the forest had discovered things infinitely more interesting and beautiful to do and ponder, and didn't concern themselves with, who they now rightfully saw as, a mad king.
The lion died a broken and extraordinarily lonely king. For, both the sound of his own voice, and the power it wielded, were gone.
The capybara rules the forest to this very day; although the interesting thing is, no creature in all the realm quite knows who is king.