Poor little Leo had never imagined that such a tough moment would arrive so suddenly. The morning began quietly, with the troop moving through the dry forest floor. But as the sun rose higher, the dust turned thick and heavy, clinging to every step they took. Tiny Leo, still learning how to walk steadily beside his mother Libby, found himself struggling to keep up. His little hands slipped again and again, and his soft fur quickly turned dusty from head to tail.
Libby, determined to move fast with the group, kept pulling Leo forward gently but firmly. She didn’t mean to hurt him—she simply wanted him to stay safe within the troop’s protection. But to Leo, each tug felt stressful and confusing. The dust swirled around him, covering his face until it looked as if he had been dipped into powder. His round eyes blinked through the haze, making his expression look even sadder.
Every time he tried to pause or catch his breath, Libby nudged him again, urging him onward. Leo stumbled, slid, and got dragged along slightly when the ground turned too slippery for his tiny feet to grip. Soon his entire body was dusty—his arms, belly, tail, even his little cheeks, now streaked with sadness.
Other monkeys glanced back, noticing Leo’s pitiful condition. Some chirped softly as if offering comfort from afar. Despite everything, Leo never cried loudly; instead, he let out small, tired whimpers, hoping his mother might slow down just a little.
At last, when the troop reached a shaded resting spot, Libby finally stopped. She turned to her dusty baby, pulled him close, and groomed him tenderly. The dust slowly fell away, and Leo leaned into her, relieved that the difficult moment had passed.
