Under the dim light of the forest, a tiny monkey sits quietly, his small body trembling from pain and fear. Moments ago, an aggressive big monkey had attacked him, sinking sharp teeth into his soft skin. Now, he hides behind a tree, shivering and whimpering, too weak to cry out loud. His tiny hands clutch the wound as if trying to hold the pain inside, his innocent eyes filled with confusion. He doesn’t understand why he was hurt — he only knows the warmth of companionship has turned into the sting of cruelty.
Around him, the forest seems indifferent. Leaves rustle in the wind, and the chatter of other monkeys continues as if nothing happened. The little one’s breathing grows shallow. Each movement brings a wave of pain, yet he stays still, hoping no one will notice him again. His fragile body trembles not only from the wound but also from fear — fear of being attacked again, fear of being alone.
Despite the suffering, a flicker of strength remains in his tiny heart. Slowly, he crawls toward the familiar path that leads back to his mother. The thought of her gentle touch, her warm chest, and the comfort of her heartbeat gives him courage. But she is far away, unaware of his pain.
Night begins to fall, and the forest grows colder. The tiny monkey curls himself into a small ball, trying to keep warm. His eyes glisten with tears that never fall. Pain, fear, and loneliness blend together, but deep inside, he holds on — waiting for a miracle, waiting for kindness to find him again.
In that silent suffering, the tiny monkey’s fragile body may tremble, but his little soul refuses to give up.
