In the dense jungle, where the trees stretched endlessly into the sky, a tiny baby monkey clung to a low-hanging branch. Her big, round eyes darted in every direction, searching for the one face she had always known—her mother’s. But the familiar warmth, the soft touch, and the comforting presence were nowhere to be found.
The baby monkey had been playing near the riverbank when a sudden roar of thunder startled the forest. Heavy rain poured down, and in the chaos, she lost sight of her mother. Now, drenched and shivering, she called out with tiny, desperate cries, hoping her mother would hear her and come rushing back.
Other animals passed by—a pair of colorful parrots, a slow-moving sloth, even a curious deer—but none could help. She climbed higher into the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mother’s familiar shape. But the jungle was vast, and the rain had washed away any trace of scent or footprints.
As night fell, the baby monkey curled up in the crook of a tree, her tiny body trembling with fear. The jungle at night was full of strange sounds—hooting owls, rustling leaves, and distant growls. She missed her mother’s warm arms, the way she would hum softly to soothe her.
But just as sleep began to claim her, a familiar sound reached her ears—a soft, urgent call. Her heart leaped. She scrambled down the tree, her tiny feet moving as fast as they could. And then, through the darkness, she saw her mother rushing toward her.
With a joyful squeal, the baby monkey leaped into her mother’s embrace, safe once more in the arms that had always protected her.
