The forest glowed softly with morning light as the troop began their slow journey across the canopy. Branches rustled under their nimble feet. Birds called through the treetops. Sunbeams danced between leaves like strands of gold. In the middle of this gentle movement, Yuna walked carefully, her arms wrapped around a tiny, sleeping baby monkey.
The child rested against her chest, breathing in quiet, peaceful rhythms. His tiny hands clutched a bit of her fur, his face relaxed in total trust. Every few steps, Yuna lowered her face and nuzzled the top of his head, making sure he stayed warm and safe. His small body rose and fell with her movements, completely unaware of the world shifting around him.
Yuna was not the baby’s birth mother, but she loved him as fiercely as if he were her own. The troop had taken him in when he was orphaned, fragile and scared. Yuna had stepped forward before anyone else, opening her arms and heart without hesitation. Since then, she had hardly put him down.
The troop formed a loose circle around them as they traveled, each member watching over the others. An older female walked slightly behind Yuna, ready to steady her if the branches grew slippery. Two playful juveniles scurried ahead, checking paths to make sure there were no snakes or weak branches. A strong male brought up the rear, keeping constant guard.
They didn’t move quickly. They didn’t need to. They moved like a single body—every step connected, every motion shaped by unity. The baby’s safety set the pace for all of them.
When the sunlight brightened, Yuna paused on a wide branch covered in soft moss. She shifted her weight carefully so the baby wouldn’t wake. His cheek pressed more firmly against her chest, and he let out a tiny sigh. His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t stir. Yuna smiled gently.
She sat for a moment, letting the troop gather around her. The juveniles curled nearby, grooming each other quietly. The older females watched Yuna with approving eyes, proud of the tenderness she carried. Even the strong male softened his posture, lowering his head close to hers.
The troop wasn’t just a group—they were a family.
After a short rest, they continued moving. Yuna cradled the baby securely, holding him with both arms. Her tail wrapped around the branch each time she leapt, ensuring she never lost balance. The troop mirrored her movements, adjusting their pace to her rhythm.
Every rustle of leaves, every sudden breeze, every shifting shadow—Yuna noticed it all. Not for herself, but for the tiny life in her arms. She protected him with instinctive love, guiding him gently through the world even as he slept.
Eventually, the troop reached a cluster of fruit trees where breakfast waited. The others climbed ahead, but Yuna stayed on a lower branch, still holding the sleeping baby. She plucked a ripe fig with one hand and ate carefully, never jostling him.
After a while, the baby stirred.
His small eyes blinked open, blurry with sleep. When he saw Yuna’s face above him, he chirped softly and nestled deeper into her arms. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, and he gave a tiny, contented squeak.
The troop gathered around them once more, grooming Yuna, touching the baby gently, welcoming him back into the waking world.
Wrapped in warmth, surrounded by love, the baby monkey drifted again toward sleep—safe in Yuna’s arms, safe within his family.
And as the sun climbed higher, the troop continued their journey together—united, protective, and full of quiet, powerful love.
