Little Rojo was a tiny, fragile baby monkey, barely old enough to explore the world on his own. His fur was soft, his eyes big and innocent, but today, something was wrong. A small wound on his head made him weak, and he looked around helplessly, searching for comfort.
Rojo had been found alone, wandering near a quiet forest path. His tiny legs wobbled as he tried to move, his head slightly tilted from the pain of his injury. He let out soft, weak cries, hoping someone would hear him. His body trembled as he sat under a tree, his small hands gripping the dirt beneath him.
Not far away, a kind woman spotted him. Her heart ached at the sight of the poor little monkey, hurt and alone. She slowly approached, whispering softly so as not to scare him. Rojo flinched at first but then, feeling the warmth of her gentle hands, he stopped crying.
Carefully, she lifted him and inspected the wound on his head. It wasn’t too deep, but it needed to be cleaned. She held him close, whispering reassuring words as she wiped the dirt away and applied medicine. Rojo whimpered but didn’t resist. He was tired, hungry, and desperate for comfort.
Wrapped in a soft cloth, Rojo finally relaxed in her arms. His tiny fingers held onto her shirt, as if afraid to be left alone again. With each passing moment, he felt safer. Maybe, just maybe, he had found someone who would care for him.
As the sun set, Rojo snuggled deeper into her warmth, his small body finally at peace. He was no longer just a stranger baby—he was now loved. ❤️
