MoMo was tiny, round, and trembling, standing on unsteady legs in the quiet barn.
When KunKun walked away, the world suddenly felt empty and frightening.
MoMo lifted his head and yelled with all his strength, a raw sound full of hunger and fear.
His voice echoed against wooden walls, calling for milk, warmth, and the comfort only KunKun could give.
The little calf stomped, shook his ears, and cried again, tears shining in his wide eyes.
Every second without milk felt endless, and his belly twisted painfully.
KunKun heard the cry from afar and hurried back, heart racing.
She answered with a deep, calming call, promising she was near.
MoMo froze, then yelled louder, desperate to be seen.
When KunKun finally appeared, relief rushed through his small body.
He wobbled forward, nearly falling, refusing to stop calling her name.
KunKun lowered herself, guiding him gently with her warm presence.
Milk flowed, rich and comforting, and MoMo drank greedily.
Each swallow softened his cries into quiet snorts of relief.
His shaking eased, replaced by heavy breaths and slow blinks.
KunKun stood still, patient and protective, letting him drink his fill.
The storm of panic faded from the barn.
MoMo leaned closer, pressing his head against her leg.
Even after hunger passed, he stayed close, afraid she might disappear again.
KunKun licked his head, reassuring him with gentle care.
The barn warmed with peace, broken only by soft chewing sounds.
MoMo’s world felt safe again, wrapped in his mother’s smell.
He sighed deeply, eyes closing, trusting completely.
In that moment, milk was more than food; it was love.
It was safety, patience, and a promise of togetherness.
MoMo slept standing, leaning on KunKun, full and calm.
A loud cry had become quiet faith, held by a mother’s presence.
Love answered hunger, and the night ended gently.
Morning would come softly.
