The tiny baby monkey was just looking for a little food. Hungry and innocent, she wandered too close to the chicks, her small hands reaching for a few scattered grains. She didn’t know any better—she was just trying to ease the ache in her belly. But before she could take more than a bite, a furious screech filled the air.
The mother hen, fierce and protective, rushed at her in a blur of feathers and fury. Sharp claws lashed out, pecking and scratching at the tiny creature. The baby monkey shrieked, scrambling backward, her little body trembling with fear and pain. She tried to flee, but the angry mother hen was relentless, chasing her away with violent flaps of her wings.
Tears welled in the monkey’s wide, frightened eyes. She didn’t understand. She wasn’t trying to hurt anyone—she was just hungry. Now, her soft fur was ruffled and stung with fresh wounds, and her tiny heart pounded in terror.
Alone and rejected, she clung to the nearest tree, curling into herself as quiet sobs wracked her fragile body. She had no mother to comfort her, no one to protect her. The only warmth she had sought was in the food she had stolen, and for that, she had been punished.
The chicks chirped happily, safe under their mother’s wings, as if nothing had happened. But the baby monkey sat in the shadows, licking her wounds, her stomach still empty, her heart aching with a pain far worse than hunger.