The forest was quiet that morning—too quiet. Sunlight scattered through the high canopy, dusting the forest floor with warm, golden patches. Deep inside the brush, a newborn baby monkey named Lino slept curled on a bed of fallen leaves. His tiny chest rose and fell softly, unaware of the danger gathering around him.
Lino had been born only hours earlier. His mother, Suri, exhausted from a long, painful labor, had gone to the nearby stream to drink. She intended to return quickly—but in her weakness, she took longer than expected. Those few minutes became the moment everything changed.
Around the sleeping baby, an army of red forest ants began to appear—first a few, then dozens, then hundreds. Drawn by the warm scent of afterbirth and the baby’s stillness, they marched in relentless formation. Their antennae twitched. Their tiny mandibles opened and closed, tasting the air, seeking softness.
Lino stirred. A single ant climbed onto his foot. Then another. Then ten more. Soon they were crawling along his tail, his belly, his neck.
At first, the baby didn’t understand the sting. His body twitched, a little whine escaping his throat. But as the ants began to bite, panic ripped through him.
A piercing cry exploded from his tiny mouth—high, desperate, terrified.
The sound shot through the forest like lightning.
Suri heard it instantly.
Her heart stopped.
She dropped the water she had scooped with her hands and sprinted back toward the nesting area. Bushes slapped against her sides. Loose soil sprayed beneath her feet. Every instinct inside her screamed one thing:
My baby is in danger!
When she arrived, the sight nearly crushed her soul.
Lino writhed helplessly on the ground, covered in a moving sheet of red. Ants swarmed across his arms, his face, his eyelids. His tail jerked frantically. His cries grew hoarse, broken by fear and pain.
Suri lunged forward with a guttural scream. She grabbed her baby, lifting him from the forest floor. Ants climbed up her arms, biting her too, but she didn’t care. She shook her fur violently, brushed Lino with trembling fingers, pulled ants from his face one by one.
Still, they came.
Still, they bit.
The more she fought, the more her hands shook.
Her baby’s skin reddened, swollen and hot. His cries weakened, turning into thin whimpers. Suri’s heart hammered against her ribs, shattering with each moment she couldn’t save him fast enough.
Hearing her alarm calls, other monkeys from the troop rushed toward the scene—Yuna, the gentle caretaker; Taro, the young protector; Kima, the watchful aunt. They circled around Suri, clicking, grunting, shouting warnings into the trees.
The troop moved as one.
Taro slapped the ground, scattering the crawling ants.
Kima used leaves to sweep away the insects still clinging to Lino’s belly.
Yuna pressed her warm chest against the baby, shielding him, calming him with soft coos.
Together, they fought—not against a predator with claws, but against an enemy too small to see clearly, too many to count.
Minutes felt like hours.
Slowly, the swarm thinned. The last ants fell away. Lino collapsed weakly into Suri’s arms, shaking, exhausted, but alive.
His breaths came shallow and rapid. His eyelids fluttered. Suri held him close, rocking him, licking his wounds with tender, desperate love. Tears streaked her cheeks. She nuzzled his forehead again and again, as if trying to breathe strength into him.
The troop gathered tightly around them, forming a protective circle. No one spoke. No one moved. The forest was silent except for Suri’s soft whimpers and the shaky breaths of the recovering baby.
After a long while, Lino’s crying stopped—not because he was hurting, but because he had finally calmed. His tiny fingers curled into his mother’s fur. His eyes, though swollen, opened halfway.
He was safe.
But Suri kept holding him as if he could disappear at any moment.
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the mountains, Suri sat with her baby pressed against her chest. Yuna stayed beside her, placing a gentle hand on Suri’s shoulder. The troop remained close, guarding their smallest member with unwavering loyalty.
Lino would heal.
He would grow.
He would survive—because love, even in the wild, is stronger than fear, stronger than pain, stronger than a thousand biting ants.
And Suri never left his side again.
