In the early light of dawn, the jungle slowly stirred awake. Birds chirped, leaves rustled, and a group of young monkeys began their morning play high in the trees. Among them was a little monkey named Tiko, known for his fearless jumps and endless energy. He was the smallest of the group, but his daring leaps from branch to branch often left the others in awe.
That morning, Tiko climbed higher than usual, chasing a fluttering butterfly. His friends watched from below, calling out, urging him to be careful. But Tiko, full of excitement, paid no attention. He reached out for one final jump—aiming for a thin branch stretched across a wide gap.
It was a mistake.
As he launched into the air, the branch he aimed for snapped under pressure. Tiko tumbled through the air, hitting a few branches on the way down before landing hard on a bed of fallen leaves and twigs. The forest fell silent for a moment. Then cries erupted.
Older monkeys rushed to his side. Tiko lay still, whimpering softly, one arm twisted awkwardly. His leg was scraped and bleeding. His usual spark was gone, replaced by pain and confusion. A mother monkey gently picked him up, cradling him with care, while others stood protectively around them.
The troop moved to a safer area, and an elder monkey began cleaning his wounds with leaves and licking the scrapes gently. Tiko’s friends stayed close, their playful mood gone, replaced by worry.
Though the injury was painful, Tiko would recover. He learned that day that bravery has limits, and even the wildest hearts need caution. From then on, he climbed slower, jumped wiser—and listened when his friends told him to be careful.
