Title: Lynx Poor Small Baby Screaming Loud, Mom Less Care with Feeding Milk
Deep in the quiet jungle, where the trees swayed gently in the morning breeze, the wild monkey troop was already on the move. Birds sang in the treetops, and sunlight filtered through the dense leaves. Among the group was a tiny baby monkey named Lynx, no bigger than a coconut, clinging to a branch with teary eyes and a rumbling belly.
Lynx had been crying since dawn — his high-pitched, desperate screams echoing through the forest. His little chest heaved as he searched for comfort, his tiny fingers reaching out again and again for his mother, Luna. But Luna was far from tender that morning. She sat with her back turned, grooming herself and eating leaves, paying little attention to her child’s cries.
The other monkey mothers held their babies close, feeding and grooming them gently. Some turned to look at Lynx, their ears twitching at the sound of his crying, but no one stepped in. In the wild, every mother made her own choices — and Luna’s choice was clear: milk only when she felt like it.
Lynx crawled toward her, stumbling a bit over the uneven bark. When he finally reached her side, he clung tightly to her leg and looked up, letting out another loud scream. It wasn’t just a cry for food — it was a cry for love, for warmth, for attention. But Luna stayed still. She barely looked at him. When he tried to nurse, she shifted her body and pulled away.
The baby’s little hands trembled. He screamed again — louder this time — a sound filled with frustration and sadness. His eyes were full of tears, and his soft fur was matted from rubbing against branches during his climb. Still, Luna didn’t respond. She picked up a small piece of fruit and chewed slowly, ignoring her son’s cries like they were just background noise.
After a long wait, she finally let him latch on, but only for a few seconds. Just as Lynx began to suckle, she pushed him off again. It wasn’t enough. His stomach remained empty, and his cries returned, sharp and desperate.
As the day passed, Lynx followed Luna everywhere, never giving up. Every time she stopped, he tried to nurse. Sometimes she allowed him a little milk, but never enough to satisfy. The moment he seemed to settle, she would move again, leaving him clinging behind, exhausted and still hungry.
By evening, Lynx’s voice was hoarse from crying. He curled up at Luna’s feet, his body weak, eyes barely open. The stars began to twinkle above the trees, and the jungle quieted down. But inside Lynx, the ache remained — not just in his belly, but in his tiny heart, still longing for the care and comfort his mother would not give.
And so, under the dark sky, Lynx lay silently, the loudest part of his day behind him — and the sadness still echoing in his dreams.
