The tiny baby monkey was curled up beneath a bush, trembling with fear and pain. His face was swollen and scratched—one eye barely open, the other shut tight from injury. Dried blood clung to his fur, and every tiny breath he took seemed heavy and shaky.
No one knew exactly what had happened. Maybe he’d fallen from a tree. Maybe another animal had attacked. What was clear, though, was that he was alone—and in deep trouble.
He didn’t cry loudly. Instead, he moaned softly, as if afraid that making too much noise might bring more harm. His face was so pitiful, his eyes searching for someone—anyone—to help.
A local man working near the forest heard something faint in the still air. Curiosity turned to concern when he spotted the baby hidden under the bush. The man moved slowly, whispering gentle words. The baby tried to back away, but he was too weak.
With great care, the man lifted him. The baby flinched at first, but then clung tightly to the shirt, burying his face into the warmth he had so longed for.
Back at the safe shelter, the man cleaned the wounds on the baby’s face. He applied medicine, offered warm milk, and placed the baby on soft blankets. The baby monkey, though still hurting, seemed to understand: he was safe now.
He stared up at his rescuer with one good eye, and for the first time, blinked slowly—not in fear, but in trust.
His face was injured, but his spirit was not broken. He had been found in time.
And now, a new chapter of healing could begin.
