In the middle of a quiet jungle clearing, a baby monkey named Ruru sat slumped on the ground. His tiny body was covered in strange red spots, and he barely had the strength to lift his head. The playful sparkle in his eyes had faded. Something was very wrong.
One by one, the other monkeys from his troop gathered around him. They didn’t come too close—but they stared with wide eyes, tilting their heads in confusion and concern. Ruru’s mother sat right beside him, grooming his fur gently, whispering soft grunts to comfort him. She hadn’t left his side since morning.
Ruru let out a soft, tired squeak.
The younger monkeys crept closer, watching the spots on his body. They sniffed the air. The elders sat quietly in the trees above, worried but unsure what to do. No one had seen a sickness like this before.
The troop surrounded Ruru like a living circle—no words, no movement, just eyes filled with worry. His siblings tried to offer him leaves, while another young monkey brought a piece of fruit and placed it near his hand. But Ruru didn’t move.
He sat there, still, tired, and weak. The red spots pulsed on his thin skin.
As the sun dropped lower in the sky, the air grew cooler. His mother gently pulled him close, cradling him as best she could, rocking him slowly. The others stayed nearby, forming a quiet wall of care around them.
Even in the wild—where life is fast and survival is everything—this troop stood still for their weakest member.
Ruru didn’t understand the illness, but he knew one thing: he wasn’t alone.
And sometimes, being surrounded by love is the strongest medicine of all. 🐒🍃💞
