The tiny baby monkey clung desperately to the rough bark of the tree, its fragile arms trembling as it tried to wrap itself around the sturdy trunk. Its small, sorrowful eyes were filled with tears, glistening in the dim light of the jungle. A pitiful cry escaped its lips, a desperate plea for comfort that echoed through the dense foliage. But no one came.
The baby had been left behind. Whether its mother had abandoned it or had fallen victim to a lurking predator, the little monkey did not understand. All it knew was that the warmth, the safety, and the love it had once known were gone. The only thing left was the tree—strong, unmoving, and indifferent to its suffering.
Its tiny fingers dug into the bark, seeking something, anything, to hold onto. The trembling of its body only grew as the fear set in deeper. It cried again, a heartbreaking sound filled with loneliness and despair. The jungle, so full of life, seemed strangely silent in response, as if mourning the fate of the helpless infant.
A gust of wind rustled the leaves above, causing the baby to flinch. It pressed its face against the tree, as though hoping it could merge with it, disappear into its solid presence. But the tree could not hold it back. It could not soothe its cries.
Hours passed, and the baby’s cries grew weaker. Its grip loosened. Hunger gnawed at its tiny belly, exhaustion weighing heavily on its fragile body. Still, it refused to let go of the tree, the only thing it had left.
Somewhere in the distance, a rustling sound emerged. Hope flickered in the baby’s teary eyes. Would someone finally come? Or was it just another cruel twist of fate?
