Tiny Hurly sat trembling, his frail body showing signs of pain as mom carefully inspected the wound that had left him so weak. His eyes watered, and his little face looked lost, as though he didn’t understand why he had to endure such hurt. The poor baby monkey was fragile, his tiny chest rising and falling quickly as he cried softly in discomfort.
Mom knew that even the smallest wound on a newborn could become dangerous. With steady hands and a heavy heart, she began cleaning the area. Each touch was gentle, her voice calm, whispering comfort to let Hurly know he wasn’t alone. The antiseptic stung, making the baby flinch and whimper, but mom’s love kept him still. She worked carefully, determined not to cause more pain than he already felt.
Hurly’s weakness was heartbreaking. Instead of playing or climbing like other little ones, he lay quietly, shivering, relying on his new mom’s care. The wound told a story of struggle, of how unfair life had been to him so early. Yet at the same time, his spirit, though faint, showed in his eyes—trusting the hands that helped him, hoping for comfort and relief.
Once the cleaning was done, mom softly wrapped him in a blanket and held him close against her chest. Her warmth calmed him, his cries slowing as his tiny head rested against her heartbeat. For the first time since the pain began, Hurly found peace in her arms.
Though poor and wounded, he was not unloved. His suffering became the reason for deeper compassion, and his weakness the reason for stronger care. With time, patience, and endless love, Hurly’s wounds—both inside and out—would begin to heal.
