In the dense jungle canopy, a mother monkey named Nala watched her baby, Biko, play among the branches. Biko was adventurous and fearless, always climbing higher than he should, testing the limits of his tiny body. Nala’s heart raced every time he swung too close to the edge, but she trusted her instincts and hoped she could keep him safe.
One afternoon, while the sun filtered through the leaves, Biko spotted a cluster of ripe fruits atop a tall tree. Ignoring Nala’s calls, he scrambled upward, his small hands gripping the rough bark. Nala followed as quickly as she could, her lungs burning and her arms straining. She reached out just in time to catch him a few times, but Biko’s momentum was too strong, and he slipped further.
Then, in a terrifying instant, Biko lost his grip entirely. Time seemed to slow as Nala lunged, but her exhausted arms couldn’t reach him in time. The baby monkey fell, tumbling through the air with a tiny squeal that echoed through the jungle. Nala screamed in panic, her heart breaking as she watched her precious baby plummet.
Biko hit the branches below with a thud, rolling onto the forest floor. Nala rushed down, trembling, her breath coming in sharp gasps. When she reached him, he lay still, tiny chest rising and falling weakly. She gently nudged him, calling his name, her tears falling freely. The fall had scared him badly, and though he was bruised and shaken, he had survived.
Nala held him close, cradling him against her chest. The experience left her wary and exhausted, a harsh reminder of how fragile life could be in the wild. From that day on, Biko stayed closer to his mother, and Nala never let him out of her sight for a single moment, guarding him fiercely in the towering jungle that both nurtured and threatened them.
