The jungle was quiet that morning, but a small cry broke the silence — a weak, trembling sound from baby Klay, the tiny monkey who had just lost everything. His little hands still reached out in confusion, hoping to feel the warmth of his mother, but she was gone. No one knew why she left, whether fear or pain drove her away, but the result was the same — poor Klay was alone.
His fur was messy, his tiny body shaking as he tried to crawl toward the group, yet no one came near. The other mothers guarded their babies, avoiding him as if he carried sorrow with him. Klay looked around with wide, tearful eyes, searching for any hint of care. Each call he made echoed through the forest, but only the wind answered back.
The baby’s little belly grumbled — hunger, cold, and fear mixed into one unbearable pain. He sat under the old tree, curling his tail tight, trying to feel safe. Sometimes he picked up a fallen leaf and hugged it, as if pretending it was his mother’s hand. That sight was so breaking to watch — a helpless baby, left to face the harsh world far too early.
Hours passed, and still no one came. When a gentle ray of sunlight touched his face, Klay slowly lifted his head, as though hoping for a miracle. His eyes reflected sadness deeper than words could tell. He was so small, yet already knew what heartbreak meant.
Oh, my God, help this poor little soul. May someone come, feed him, hold him, and remind him that love still exists in this cruel moment. Klay deserves warmth, not loneliness — a chance to live, not to fade away in sorrow.
