The forest was quiet, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth. A small, frail monkey named Rano was placed on the ground—alone, trembling, and confused.
He had once known the touch of humans, the comfort of food, and the warmth of shelter. But now, his ribs showed through his thin fur, and his movements were weak, uneven. His eyes darted around, searching for something familiar—but there was nothing.
He had been released, but not out of hope… out of neglect.
Rano was in poor health, too weak to climb, too exhausted to cry. His legs wobbled as he took a few steps, then collapsed beside a fallen log. The forest was no place for a monkey in this condition.
No family.
No food.
No strength.
Just silence.
He looked around with wide, sad eyes—each sound of the forest unfamiliar and frightening. A distant rustle made him flinch. A buzzing fly landed on his thin arm, but he didn’t have the energy to swat it away.
This was not freedom. This was abandonment.
A nearby wildlife rescuer, who had been following quietly, finally stepped forward. They had been told he had been released—but seeing Rano like this broke their heart. They could not walk away.
Gently, they lifted him back into their arms. Rano didn’t resist. He was too weak—but somewhere inside, he understood. He leaned into the warmth, letting his eyes close for the first time in hours.
He was given a second chance.
