The forest was unusually silent that morning, as if every leaf and branch sensed that something terrible was about to happen. In the middle of the old fig tree, a poorly baby monkey clung tightly to his mother’s fur, his tiny body trembling. He was still weak, his eyes dull from hunger and fear, and his soft cries echoed like a broken heart through the air.
Suddenly, a big monkey appeared from the shadows. His body was strong and heavy, his face hard with anger. He moved closer with threatening steps, shaking branches as he climbed. The baby monkey froze. His little fingers tightened, and his breath became short and shaky. He did not understand why such danger was coming so close.
The big monkey showed his teeth and beat his chest, sending a wave of terror through the tree. The baby screamed, a sharp, painful sound, full of fear and confusion. His mother tried to protect him, pulling him closer, turning her body into a shield. But the big monkey’s threat was serious. One sudden movement caused the baby to lose his grip. He slipped and hit the rough branch, letting out a heartbreaking cry.
That cry pierced the forest like a knife. Other monkeys stopped moving. Birds flew away. The baby lay still for a moment, weak and frightened, his tiny chest rising and falling fast. His pain was not only in his body but deep in his innocent heart.
At last, the big monkey backed away, disappearing into the trees. The mother rushed to her baby, licking his face, holding him tightly, as if her love alone could heal his wounds. Slowly, the baby opened his eyes again. He was hurt, but alive.
This shocking moment reminded the forest of a painful truth: even in nature, the smallest and weakest suffer the most. Yet, love, courage, and a mother’s protection can still shine in the darkest fear.
