Rama, content in his forest exile, spoke warmly to Sita: “Bathing at the three times of day, eating honey, roots, and fruits—today I desire neither Ayodhya nor the kingdom, as long as I am with you.” He gazed upon the delightful river, decorated with herds of deer, frequented by elephants, lions, and monkeys, and adorned with blossoming trees. “Truly,” he said, “there is no one who, seeing such beauty, would not feel happy and free from fatigue.” In this way, Rama, the glory of the Raghu line, wandered about the splendid Chitrakuta, speaking lovingly to his companion about the river and its wonders. After showing Sita the mountain river, Rama sat down with her on the mountain slope, offering her meat to please her. He spoke gently, “This is pure, this is tasty, this is well-roasted in the fire.” As they sat together in peace, suddenly the dust and sound of an approaching army rose up, touching the sky. Startled by the great noise, wild herds of animals—frightened and distressed—fled in all directions, their leaders urging them on. Rama heard the tumult raised by the army and saw the chiefs of the herds fleeing in panic. Observing this, Rama turned to Lakshmana, the energetic son of Sumitra: “Look, Lakshmana! A terrible, thunderous, deep, tumultuous sound is being heard. Whether it is herds of elephants or buffaloes frightened by lions, the animals have suddenly scattered. Perhaps a king or a royal minister is hunting in the forest, or perhaps it is some wild beast. O Sumitra’s son, you should find out. This mountain is difficult even for birds to traverse; quickly ascertain the truth.” Lakshmana hastened and climbed a flowering shala tree, gazing toward the eastern quarter. Facing east, he saw a great army, crowded with chariots, horses, elephants, and foot soldiers. He reported to Rama: “Extinguish the fire, noble one, and let Sita enter the cave. String your bow, prepare your arrows and armor as well.” Rama, tiger among men, replied, “O Sumitra’s son, look carefully—whose army do you think this is?” Lakshmana, burning with anger, spoke eagerly: “Desiring the kingdom, having surely obtained consecration, Bharata, son of Kaikeyi, is coming to kill us both. See that splendid tree and the chariot bearing the banner with the kovidara symbol. Mounted on swift horses, these men move as they please; others delight as they ride elephants. Let us, with bows in hand, take refuge on the mountain, or stand here ready and armed. Perhaps the one with the kovidara banner will fall into our power. Will I see Bharata, on whose account you, Sita, and I have suffered such misfortune? For the sake of which you have been cast out from the eternal kingdom, this enemy Bharata has now arrived; for me, he is to be slain. I see no fault, O Raghava, in killing Bharata; abandoning those who have committed wrongs is not unrighteous. Bharata, who has abandoned righteousness—once he is slain, rule the earth. Today, let Kaikeyi, greedy for the kingdom, see her son slain in battle by me, and be tormented with grief, like a tree shattered by an elephant. I will kill Kaikeyi as well, along with her associates and relatives; let the earth be freed from this impurity. Today, O giver of honor, I will release my restrained anger and insult upon the enemy’s army, as fire is released in dry grass. I will make this Chitrakuta forest soaked in blood, piercing the bodies of enemies with sharp arrows. Let wild beasts drag away elephants and horses pierced by arrows, as well as men slain by me. I am not indebted to arrows or the bow in this great battle; after killing Bharata and his army, I will be without doubt.” But Rama, seeing Lakshmana fiercely enraged, calmed him and spoke gently: “What need is there here for the bow or sword with shield, when Bharata himself, the great archer and wise one, has come? Having killed Bharata, who has come after pledging truth to our father, what would I do with the kingdom, tainted by blame, O Lakshmana? Whatever wealth might come from the destruction of relatives or friends, I would not accept it, as one would not eat food mixed with poison.” Thus, the story flows through the sacred sargas of the glorious Ayodhya Kanda in the venerable Ramayana, composed by sage Valmiki.