Botoshus’ claim was tolerated, on account of it seeming likely he was there first and his claim therefore correct, not that anyone would check or care (as it hardly mattered), so the forest was his, if that made him feel happy, and we left him and his troupe to plot their elaborate performances. In the end, the swamp orbs got him, not having been told the rules, or that he owned them and that therefore he wasn’t meant to be food, and in being eaten achieved his desire of permanently coupling his name to the forest.