Rain soaked the forest floor when the rescuers heard a faint, broken cry drifting from the bushes. Pushing aside wet leaves, they found a newborn monkey tangled in thorny vines, her tiny body scratched and shaking with cold and pain. She had wandered too far from her mother and become lost in the storm, helpless against the wild around her.
Her breathing was fast and shallow. One small leg bore a fresh cut, and mud clung to her fur. She tried to lift her head but failed, letting out another weak cry that sounded more like a whisper than a call for help. The rescuers moved quickly, freeing her from the thorns and wrapping her in warm cloth. Instantly, her trembling eased just a little.
They carried her through the rain to safety, shielding her from the wind with their bodies. At the shelter, warm light replaced the dark forest. Careful hands cleaned her wounds and dried her tiny frame. She flinched at first, frightened by every touch, but the gentle voices slowly calmed her racing heart.
Warm milk touched her lips. At first she did not respond. Then instinct awakened. Her mouth found the dropper, and she drank in slow, shaky swallows. With each sip, her breathing steadied. The tight knot of fear in her body slowly loosened.
Hours passed quietly. Curled in soft cloth, the newborn finally slept, her rise and fall steady and peaceful. The injury on her leg was bandaged, her body clean, her tiny life guarded once more by watchful eyes.
She had been lost.
She had been hurt.
She had been alone.
But now she was safe.
And that small miracle was enough to give her a future.
Tonight her tiny heartbeat proved that hope had not faded
