Baby monkey Kasky cried in pain after falling from the fence, his tiny body shaking as shock hit harder than the ground. One second he was climbing with curiosity, the next he slipped, losing grip, tumbling down with a frightened scream. The sound froze everyone nearby.
Kasky lay still for a breath, eyes wide, chest heaving. Then the pain arrived. He cried sharply, a raw, broken sound that tore through the air. His hands reached out blindly, feet curling, unsure if they would hold him again. Fear mixed with pain, making every second feel endless.
Mom rushed to him, heart racing. She lifted Kasky carefully, checking his arms, legs, tail, whispering his name again and again. Kasky clung to her desperately, crying louder when she touched the sore spots. He wasn’t being dramatic. His little body truly hurt.
The fence that once felt like adventure now felt like danger. Kasky buried his face against mom’s chest, shaking, refusing to be put down. Tears soaked her shirt as she rocked him gently, letting the fear pour out. No scolding. No blame. Only comfort.
Mom inspected him slowly, watching his breathing, feeling for swelling, moving each limb with extreme care. Kasky whimpered with every test, then relaxed when it stopped. He was hurt, but he was safe.
Warm cloth wrapped around him. Gentle strokes calmed his cries. The pain slowly faded into exhaustion. His screams softened into weak sobs, then quiet sniffles. His eyes drooped, heavy from stress and shock.
Kasky learned a hard lesson that day. Falling hurts. The world can be scary. But when pain comes, love comes faster. Held tightly in mom’s arms, he rested, still sore, but no longer alone. Safety returned, heartbeat by heartbeat, until calm finally replaced fear. Mom stayed close, watching, listening, promising protection always.
