Deep inside the forest clearing, baby Lizza clung tightly to the side of her father Orhan. The morning sun was warm, but her tiny body trembled as if every sound around her made her nervous. Orhan kept glancing down at her, unsure why his usually playful daughter suddenly seemed so frightened. It was a moment that made all the nearby monkeys pause and watch closely.
At first everything looked normal. Lizza had been exploring earlier, hopping from root to root, chasing insects, and giggling in her tiny monkey way. But something changed quickly—her little body stiffened, her breath trembled, and she began to cry in short jerking bursts. The elders of the group came closer, trying to understand what had frightened the baby so much.
Orhan moved gently, brushing leaves off her back, whispering soft grunts that meant comfort. But Lizza only pressed her face deeper into his chest, shaking. Her tail wrapped tightly around him, almost as if she was afraid he might disappear.
Slowly, the elders noticed the possible reason: earlier, while playing too far from her group, Lizza had stepped near a thorny bush. Something inside the bush—maybe a sudden rustle or a small creature—had startled her badly. She had run back in panic, overwhelmed by the shock, and now the fear remained trapped in her tiny heart.
Orhan lifted her arms and rocked her gently. The other mothers gathered around, offering small touches of reassurance. Bit by bit, Lizza’s jerking breaths slowed. Her cries softened, turning into tiny whimpers, then silence. She blinked up at Orhan with watery eyes, as if realizing she was safe again.
By the end, watching her relax in her father’s arms made everyone breathe easier. The reason became clear—and the moment turned into a gentle reminder of how fragile and precious little Lizza truly was.
