Deep in the lush green forest, a tiny baby monkey named Lucie clung tightly to the base of a tree, her little arms trembling and her voice echoing with loud cries. Lucie was hungry—so hungry that her belly made soft, painful noises—and her small face showed the sadness and confusion of being left behind. Her mother, Lala, had begun the tough process of weaning, and with it came heartbreaking separation.
Earlier that morning, the troop had moved toward a new feeding area. The older monkeys leapt gracefully through the branches, searching for fresh fruits and leaves. But Lucie, still small and unsure, struggled to keep up. She reached out to her mother, crying softly, hoping to be carried like before. But Lala didn’t pick her up. Instead, she moved forward, not looking back, leaving Lucie standing alone on a mossy branch.
At first, Lucie called out gently—whimpers and soft coos—but when her mother disappeared into the trees, those sounds turned into loud, desperate screams. Her voice echoed through the jungle, full of fear. The trees around her felt too big, the forest too deep. Without her mother, everything looked and sounded more frightening.
Lucie climbed down shakily, her little hands and feet gripping the rough bark. She didn’t know where to go. Her eyes searched in every direction, hoping to see Lala’s familiar figure or hear her calming sounds. But there was nothing—only birds flying above and the rustling of leaves in the wind. She cried louder, a painful, broken sound, her chest heaving with each breath.
Her stomach hurt from hunger. Without milk or guidance, Lucie didn’t know what was safe to eat. She sniffed a fallen leaf, then dropped it. She bit into a soft piece of bark, but it tasted wrong. Her tiny teeth weren’t ready for real foraging, and her body was too weak to search far.
As the sun climbed higher, the forest grew warmer, but Lucie still sat alone, tears mixing with dust on her face. Now and then, a larger monkey passed nearby but didn’t stop. The troop knew this was part of growing up, but Lucie didn’t understand. All she felt was the pain of hunger and the fear of being forgotten.
Then, late in the afternoon, a familiar scent came through the air. Lala appeared—not with a hug or food, but with a quick glance. She climbed down, checked her baby, and sat nearby. Lucie rushed to her, sobbing into her mother’s fur. Lala didn’t offer milk, but she allowed Lucie to stay close, her presence at least giving a little comfort.
That night, as the troop settled in the trees, Lucie curled beside her mother, still hungry, still afraid, but no longer alone. The journey of weaning had started, and for Lucie, it would be full of tears, cries, and fear—but also strength, little by little, as she learned how to survive.
