Little Marrya was a curious baby monkey, always climbing, always exploring like the world belonged to her tiny hands. That morning, sunlight warmed the wooden beams outside the house, and she decided to follow the older monkeys who moved confidently above. Her steps were wobbly but brave, her eyes shining with adventure. She climbed higher than she ever had, feeling proud, feeling big. But when she looked down, everything suddenly felt too far, too scary. The ground spun beneath her. Her tiny heartbeat raced.
Her foot slipped.
At that moment fear swallowed her confidence. Marrya froze, clinging with trembling fingers, and then came the first cry—sharp, desperate, filled with panic. She called out for her mother with all her strength. Her voice cracked, echoing through the yard. Tears bubbled and rolled down her face, soaking her chin. She screamed again, louder, more sorrowful, as if the whole world should know she needed help.
Her mother heard instantly. She rushed, leaping up with urgency only a mother could understand. Every cry from Marrya pulled stronger at her heart. When she reached her, she wrapped her arms around the tiny, shaking body and brought her close. Marrya collapsed into her chest, sobbing, gripping her fur as though letting go would send her falling again.
Her mother whispered calm, warm sounds, gently stroking her back. Slowly, the cries softened into sniffles, then into quiet breaths. Safe in her mother’s embrace, Marrya felt warmth return. The fear faded, replaced by the sweet comfort of love.
That moment became a lesson—the world could be big, frightening, unpredictable. But as long as she had her mom, she would never fall alone.
