In a quiet corner of the forest, beneath the dripping leaves and tangled roots, a tiny baby monkey sat all alone. His fur was soaked from the rain, his belly empty, and his eyes wide with fear.
He had been left behind—whether by accident, fear, or rejection, no one knew. The troop had moved on hours ago, their calls fading into silence. Now, only the baby’s soft cries echoed in the stillness.
“Eeeh… eeeh…”
He tried to crawl, but his tiny limbs were weak. He had no warmth, no milk, and no mother’s arms to protect him from the cold world around him.
Every sound—rustling leaves, distant bird calls—made him flinch. The jungle was no place for a newborn alone. But still, he cried.
Cried for anyone.
Cried for help.
Cried not to be forgotten.
He curled up under a broad leaf, trembling, his thin fingers gripping a twig like it might somehow protect him. The hunger gnawed at his belly, but it was the loneliness that hurt most.
Then—soft footsteps.
A human figure appeared, gentle eyes scanning the forest floor. A rescuer, trained to spot the helpless, had heard the faint crying from a distance. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him—tiny, fragile, and desperately trying to stay alive.
She knelt down and extended her hand.
The baby stared, uncertain—but hope flickered in his eyes.
It wasn’t his mother.
It wasn’t the jungle’s way.
But it was something kind.
Something warm.
He crawled into her palm, too weak to resist but strong enough to hold on.
And as she lifted him gently into her arms, wrapping him in a soft cloth, his cries softened.
Because for the first time in forever…
Someone came.
