Under the soft light of morning, a tiny abandoned baby monkey lay curled up near the edge of the forest. His fur was matted with dirt, and his eyes—puffy and red from crying—searched helplessly for someone, anyone, to answer his silent call.
He hadn’t eaten since the night before. His tiny stomach rumbled, and his whole body trembled from weakness. Still, he cried. Long, heart-wrenching sobs that echoed through the quiet woods. His voice cracked with every sound, but he didn’t stop—his hunger was deep, and the loneliness even deeper.
Each time he thought he heard a step, his head would lift quickly, eyes wide with hope… but it was always just the wind, or a falling leaf. Still, he waited. Still, he cried.
Sleep teased his tired body, but fear wouldn’t let him rest. His head drooped forward, then jolted back up as he tried to stay awake—afraid that if he closed his eyes, the world might forget him forever.
Suddenly, there was a sound in the distance. Footsteps. Human ones.
The baby tried to lift his little hand, but it was heavy with exhaustion. His cries faded to a whimper, just enough for someone to hear. And then—a shadow appeared.
A kind woman knelt beside him, her eyes filled with shock and sorrow. “Oh, baby…” she whispered, wrapping him in a soft towel. He was so light, so fragile. She held him close and pulled out a small milk bottle.
The baby weakly latched on, his eyes still watery but beginning to close.
Safe at last.
The jungle still whispered, but for now, the only sound was the gentle suckling of milk and the peaceful breathing of a baby monkey finally held in loving arms
