It was a sunny morning, and little Rara was enjoying her favorite snack — a perfectly ripe banana. She sat on a low wooden bench in the yard, peeling it carefully with her tiny hands, her eyes half-closed in delight as she took slow, happy bites. The sweet taste made her tail sway lazily from side to side.
But just as she was halfway through, something startled her. A rustle came from the bushes nearby, sharp and sudden. Rara froze, her little ears twitching. She lifted her head, eyes wide, scanning the yard. The banana, still in her hands, no longer mattered — her heart had leapt into her throat.
The noise came again, and Rara quickly stuffed the banana under her leg as if hiding it might somehow protect her. She hugged herself tightly, glancing toward the house where Mom was busy sweeping the floor.
Her breaths grew quicker, and her munching stopped entirely. Rara’s tiny lips trembled, and her soft chewing sound was replaced by silence. The once-happy snack time had turned into a moment of worry.
Mom noticed the sudden stillness and came over. “Rara, what’s wrong?” she asked gently, kneeling beside her. When Mom placed a hand on her shoulder, Rara flinched, then quickly leaned in for comfort.
Mom picked her up and held her close, glancing toward the bushes to see nothing more than a passing shadow — maybe a bird or a lizard. “It’s okay, my baby,” Mom whispered, stroking her soft fur.
With the danger gone and Mom’s arms around her, Rara slowly relaxed. She reached for her banana again, but now she took smaller, cautious bites, her eyes still flicking toward the yard. The fear had passed, but the memory lingered in her tiny heart.
