Baby Shala burst into loud, panicked crying the moment daddy encouraged her to climb the tree. The rough bark felt strange under her tiny hands, and the height, even though small, looked terrifying to her innocent eyes. She froze, clinging tightly, her little body shaking as fear rushed through her all at once.
Daddy stayed close, guiding gently, speaking softly. But Shala didn’t hear reassurance. She felt uncertainty. Her cries echoed, sharp and desperate, as she shook her head again and again. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dropping onto the ground below. To her, this was not training. This was danger.
She tried to lift one hand like daddy showed her, but her fingers slipped slightly. That tiny slip broke her courage completely. Shala screamed louder, her voice cracking with terror. Her legs trembled, tail curling tightly around the branch as if begging it not to let her fall. Her whole body said no.
Daddy quickly supported her, holding her steady so she wouldn’t slip. Still, Shala cried as if her heart might burst. She reached back desperately, arms stretching toward him, wanting only to be taken down and held. The tree no longer mattered. Learning no longer mattered. Safety was all she wanted.
Seeing her fear, daddy stopped the training immediately. He lifted Shala into his arms, pressing her close to his chest. Her cries continued for a moment, loud and broken, then slowly softened into sobs. Her small hands clutched his shirt tightly, refusing to let go.
As daddy rocked her gently, Shala’s breathing slowed. Her shaking eased. She buried her face against him, hiding from the world. The tree stood quietly behind them, waiting for another day.
Training could wait. Strength would come later. Today taught a different lesson. Shala didn’t fail. She trusted enough to show her fear. And in that moment, being comforted mattered more than climbing ever could.
