After a night of heavy rain, the forest was quiet but drenched. Streams had overflowed, and muddy water rushed through paths that were once dry. A local woodcutter, making his way carefully through the soaked forest, suddenly heard a faint, desperate sound—like a soft, high-pitched cry. He stopped, listened, and followed the noise toward a fallen tree near the edge of a swollen stream.
There, clinging weakly to a branch, was a tiny baby monkey, soaked to the bone, shivering, and barely holding on. The poor creature had clearly been swept away by the flood, separated from its mother and carried downstream by the strong current. The little one’s eyes were wide with fear, and his tiny hands gripped the branch with the last of his strength.
Without hesitation, the woodcutter rushed to help. He carefully waded into the cold, waist-high water and reached out. The baby monkey flinched but was too weak to resist. Gently, the woodcutter wrapped the monkey in his jacket and held him close to his chest, providing warmth and comfort.
Back in his small forest cabin, the woodcutter dried the baby with a towel and placed him near the fire. He prepared warm milk and fed it to the monkey slowly using a small dropper. The little one drank with trembling lips, finally safe from the terrifying flood.
As the baby monkey curled up in a basket lined with soft cloth, the woodcutter stayed by his side, whispering gently and keeping him warm. Though the baby had lost his troop and endured the storm alone, he had now found kindness and care.
In the middle of destruction, a quiet act of compassion had given one tiny life a new beginning.