The forest clearing burst into chaos when tiny, skinny Alba let out a desperate cry that echoed across the trees. Her little body trembled, ribs showing through her thin fur, as she tried to dodge her mother Anna’s rough, frustrated swings. Anna, stressed and confused, snapped in anger—her movements fast and unpredictable. She grabbed Alba by the scruff, shaking her in irritation, not realizing how fragile her baby had become. For one terrifying moment, Alba’s neck bent at a dangerous angle, and the troop gasped as if the whole world had frozen.
Alba squealed in fear, struggling to twist free. Her small hands reached out for help, eyes wide, shining with panic. She didn’t understand why her mother was acting so harshly. Anna wasn’t truly “stupid”—she was overwhelmed, exhausted, and unsure how to care for a baby who cried constantly for comfort and milk she could barely provide. But Alba felt only fear, and that fear made her tiny heart race.
Nearby females watched anxiously, shifting from branch to branch. A dominant aunt approached with caution, trying to distract Anna before the situation grew worse. Slowly, she edged closer, offering soft grunts—monkey language meant to calm a stressed mother. Anna hesitated, her breathing heavy, her grip loosening. In that moment, Alba wriggled free and collapsed into the arms of the approaching female, finally safe.
The troop immediately formed a protective circle around the trembling baby. Alba buried her face in the warm chest of her rescuer, her small body still shuddering. Anna sat a short distance away, confused and panting, as if trying to understand what she had just done.
The forest settled again, but the urgency remained. Alba needed care, warmth, and safety—before another moment of stress put her fragile life in danger.
