On the cold edge of the forest path, a poorly newborn monkey lay trembling on the ground. His tiny body shook nonstop, not from anger, but from fear and weakness. The baby had just come into the world, his fur still thin and dusty, his eyes wide and wet with tears. He lifted his small head again and again, searching for the one face he knew by instinct—his mother.
The newborn tried to crawl, dragging his fragile body across the dirt. Each movement made him shake harder. He called softly, a thin, broken cry meant only for Mama Rozy. To him, she was warmth, safety, and love. He believed that if he could just reach her arms, everything would be okay.
Mama Rozy stood only a short distance away. She looked at the baby, her face unreadable. The newborn reached out with a tiny hand, fingers trembling in the air. He wanted a hug, a touch, anything to stop the cold fear growing inside him. But Mama Rozy did not move. She only stared.
The ground was rough, and soon the baby’s body became dirty. Dust stuck to his damp fur, and his shaking grew stronger. Still, he did not give up. In his small heart, hope was louder than pain. He believed his mother would step forward at any moment.
Time passed slowly. The forest sounds continued as if nothing was wrong—birds calling, leaves rustling—but the baby monkey felt alone in a world too big for him. His cries became weaker, turning into soft whimpers. He curled his body slightly, trying to keep himself warm.
Mama Rozy remained standing, silent and distant. To the newborn, it felt like abandonment. Yet even then, the baby looked toward her, eyes full of trust. He did not understand why she would not come.
In that moment, the newborn monkey showed a quiet strength. Even while shaking, even while abandoned, he kept searching for love. His tiny heart still hoped for a hug, still believed that one step from his mother could change everything.
