In the heart of the dense rainforest, the air was filled with chirps, rustles, and distant howls. High up in the canopy, a baby monkey named Tima clung to a thick branch, his tiny eyes wide with wonder. It was his first time venturing so high, mimicking the older monkeys who swung effortlessly from tree to tree.
Excited, yet unsure, Tima reached out to grab a dangling vine. His grip slipped.
In an instant, the world turned upside down.
Snap! Crack!
The rustling of leaves and a tiny shriek echoed through the trees as Tima tumbled down, branch after branch, before finally landing on the soft forest floor with a painful thud.
There he lay, dazed and trembling, his little chest heaving with frightened breaths. His limbs were scraped, his fur covered in dust, and his eyes filled with tears. So small, so helpless—he looked so pitiful lying there beneath the towering trees.
A loud cry rang out from above—his mother had seen the fall. In a heartbeat, she descended, landing beside him and scooping him up gently. She inspected every inch of her baby, murmuring softly, licking his wounds with tender care.
Tima whimpered quietly, nuzzling into her chest for comfort.
Though the fall hadn’t broken any bones, the scare left a mark on his spirit. For days, Tima stayed close to his mother, no longer daring to climb too high.
The jungle had taught him a lesson—one he’d never forget.
