The air was filled with tiny cries as the newborn baby monkey lay curled up in his mom’s arms. His soft fur was still new, his little hands gripping tightly onto his mother’s chest. He was peaceful, safe, and loved.
But not everyone was happy about it.
Minea stood nearby, watching with narrowed eyes.
She had always been the little princess, the one always held, cuddled, and spoiled. But now? This tiny baby had taken her place.
Her face twisted in anger. Her small fingers clenched into fists. And then—she snapped.
“Eeeeehhhhh!!!” Minea screamed at the top of her lungs, stomping her feet. Her mother looked at her, confused.
But Minea didn’t wait. She ran forward, swiping her tiny hand—straight at the newborn’s head!
The little baby yelped, his tiny body trembling in shock. His mother gasped, pulling him closer to protect him.
“Minea! What are you doing?!”
But Minea didn’t care. She wanted attention. She wanted love. And she wanted it now.
Mom turned to Minea with a firm voice. “Enough! This is your little brother! You must be gentle.”
Minea froze, her breath shaky. She didn’t like the scolding, but she hated seeing her mom cuddle the newborn even more.
Her lips trembled. She sniffled. Then—she threw herself onto the ground, crying angrily.
Her mom sighed. She understood.
The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the quiet lake. Two tiny baby monkeys, weak and trembling, sat near the water’s edge, hugging each other tightly. They had no mother, no family—only each other.
The smaller baby whimpered, his tiny body shivering. He pressed his face into his older sibling’s chest, seeking warmth and comfort. His little belly rumbled with hunger, but there was no milk, no food—only the endless sound of rippling water and rustling leaves.
The older one, though just as weak, held on tighter. He didn’t know where to go, but he knew he had to protect his little brother. If they stayed still and quiet, maybe danger wouldn’t find them.
The water reflected their tiny figures, lonely and afraid. A few birds chirped nearby, fluttering past the lake, but the baby monkeys didn’t move. They had no energy left to run.
Minutes passed. The air grew colder. The smaller one whimpered again, shifting his tiny arms to cling closer. His cries were soft, but heartbreaking. His brother nuzzled his head gently, whispering silent comfort.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from behind them. A shadow appeared, moving closer. The older monkey stiffened, his heart racing. Were they in danger?
Then, a warm, gentle hand reached out. A kind voice spoke softly.
A human rescuer.
The babies trembled but didn’t run. They were too weak, too tired. The hand lifted them carefully, wrapping them in warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, they were safe.
As the rescuer carried them away, the younger monkey sighed softly, resting his tiny head against his sibling. They had survived. And maybe, just maybe, they would finally be loved again.
Tourtour sat on the wooden floor, dripping wet, his tiny arms crossed tightly over his chest. His fur was soaked from his unexpected bath, and he was not happy. His mom had cleaned him up after his muddy adventure, but now—where was his towel?!
He looked around. No warm, soft towel to wrap him up. No gentle rubs to dry his fur. Nothing!
His lips quivered. His tail flicked. His little fists clenched.
Then—“AAAAHHH!”
Tourtour screamed in frustration, stomping his feet. His mom, busy cleaning up the mess, turned to look at him.
“What’s wrong now?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tourtour pointed angrily at his wet fur. “Where’s my towel, Mom?! You forgot me!!”
Mom sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, Tourtour, you’re fine! You’ll dry off soon.”
Not the answer he wanted.
Tourtour gasped dramatically, then flopped onto the floor, wailing. “You don’t care about me anymore!” he sobbed, rolling side to side like a miserable little ball.
Mom tried not to laugh. “Oh, stop being so dramatic,” she said, finally grabbing the towel.
But now, Tourtour was really mad. He turned his back, refusing to let her dry him. “No! Too late! I’m already sad!”
Mom chuckled and sat beside him. “Alright, alright. Come here, my grumpy boy.”
Tourtour peeked at her from the corner of his eye, hesitated, then finally jumped into her arms.
She wrapped the towel around him and rubbed his fur gently. “Better?” she asked.
Tourtour sniffled and nodded. Finally!
His tantrum was over, and he cuddled into his mom’s warmth—just like he wanted
all along.
