Under the tall trees where the wind whispered through broken leaves, little LEO lay still, his tiny chest rising only faintly. Moments earlier, the forest had echoed with cries—sharp, desperate sounds that seemed too big for such a small body. His mother, confused by fear and hunger, had struck him hard in a storm of panic. No one understood why it happened, but the result was heartbreaking. Baby LEO lost consciousness, his soft hands loosening their grip on life itself.
The world felt suddenly quiet. Birds stopped singing. Even the ants slowed, as if the forest knew something was terribly wrong. LEO’s fur was dusty, his eyes closed, his breath weak. Tears seemed to fall from the sky, or maybe they were the tears of everyone who loved him. “Oh God, please bless LEO,” the forest seemed to pray, over and over again.
Time stretched painfully. Then, a miracle stirred. A gentle movement—just a twitch of his fingers—gave hope. An old female monkey crept closer, her eyes full of wisdom and sorrow. She touched LEO softly, licking his face, warming him with her own body. Nearby monkeys gathered, silent but watchful, guarding the fragile life between them.
Slowly, painfully slowly, LEO breathed deeper. His chest rose again. A weak sound escaped his lips, not a cry, but a promise. He was still here. Life, though wounded, had not let him go.
This was not just LEO’s struggle. It was a lesson written in tears: that cruelty, even when born of confusion, leaves scars; and that kindness, even when late, can still save a life. As the sun dipped low, light touched LEO’s face, and hope returned.
Oh God, please bless LEO—let him grow strong, loved, and safe again.
