It was another tense afternoon in the group of young monkeys, where Jane, the dominant young female, decided once again to take control of little Janet’s learning. Jane had become known for her strict way of “tutoring” the younger ones, and sadly, today was no different. Little Janet, still fragile and not yet confident in climbing or finding food on her own, was the target of Jane’s overwhelming discipline.
Jane pulled Janet roughly from her quiet corner and began dragging her through the bushes, nudging her hard toward the higher branches and shoving her face into leaves as if forcing her to practice foraging. Janet whimpered, confused and frightened. She tried to resist, but Jane wouldn’t allow it. She was determined to “teach” Janet—though her methods seemed harsh, even cold.
At one moment, Jane even bit gently at Janet’s arm to push her into moving faster. The poor baby monkey cried out softly, her voice barely a whisper, but the pain in her eyes was loud. No one intervened. The others watched quietly, too afraid of Jane’s temper.
And what was even sadder—Jane seemed to be giving up on the tender, nurturing side she once had. Once, she had been kind and caring. But something had changed. Now she gave Janet no chance to rest, no soft touch, no comfort. It was clear: Jane no longer gave a chance not only for Janet… but for herself either. She was pushing away her own gentle nature.
As the forest slowly quieted with the setting sun, Janet curled under a low tree, exhausted, her small chest rising with broken sobs. And Jane? She sat high above, cold and still, her heart locked away behind pride and pain.
