The newborn monkey lay on the soft bed, barely the size of a human hand. His eyes were still new to the world, cloudy with confusion, and his little belly rose and fell with weak breaths. He didn’t understand where he was or why everything felt so quiet. What he did know was simple — he needed warmth, a heartbeat, someone to hold him close.
Slowly, with trembling fingers and wobbly limbs, the tiny baby began to crawl. It wasn’t strong or steady — more like gentle scooting, inch by fragile inch. His tail dragged behind him, and a tiny moaning voice escaped his lips, soft at first, then more desperate. He was calling for the only thing newborns crave most: comfort.
He pressed his cheek against the blanket, sniffling, pausing whenever exhaustion washed over his tiny body. Then he tried again, determined, crawling in the direction where he sensed a familiar scent — the caregiver who had rescued him just days ago. The room was big in his little world, and each tiny movement was a mountain to climb, yet his heart pushed him forward.
His moans grew louder — “Uhhh… mmm… ahh…” — small cries begging to be held. He reached the pillow edge and rested, shaking from effort. Just when it seemed he might give up, warm hands lifted him gently. The caregiver had heard his cry.
Instantly he relaxed, face sinking into the palm that held him. The tiny baby clung with surprising strength, tiny fingers curling around a thumb like it was life itself. A soft bottle touched his lips; milk flowed warmly, and his cries faded to contented suckles.
Wrapped in a towel, pressed to a chest that beat like safety, the baby drifted into peaceful sleep — knowing love had found him.
