In a quiet forest clearing at the edge of the mountains, the morning sun broke through the canopy in soft golden beams. Birds sang from the treetops, and the air was warm with the scent of fresh leaves and flowers. A family of monkeys stirred from their sleep, stretching and yawning as they began their search for food.
Among them was a curious little baby monkey named Kiko. He was the smallest of the troop—barely able to climb the lower branches—but his eyes sparkled with endless curiosity. Still clinging close to his mother’s belly, Kiko was just beginning to learn about the world. Every sound made him jump, and every color made him stare in wonder.
On this particular morning, the monkeys ventured close to a nearby village garden, where fruit trees and vines often grew wild and unharvested. The scent of something sweet drifted through the air, something richer and more fragrant than the usual bananas and mangoes they found. Following the smell, the troop moved quickly, and Kiko’s nose twitched with excitement.
Then he saw it—a glowing pink and green fruit lying on the ground near a cactus plant. Its outer skin was wild and spiky, almost like flames frozen in time. It was a dragon fruit, freshly fallen, its bright pink peel cracked open to reveal a smooth, white flesh dotted with tiny black seeds.
Kiko had never seen anything like it.
His mother dropped beside it, sniffed, and took a careful bite. The others followed. But Kiko just stared. The colors were so bright, so strange. Slowly, with shaky steps, he crawled forward and reached out a tiny hand. His fingers brushed the soft white flesh, cool and slippery.
Then he leaned in and took his first bite.
A rush of flavor filled his mouth—sweet, juicy, and refreshing. His eyes widened in surprise. The baby monkey let out a soft sound of joy and took another bite, this time with more enthusiasm. Juice dribbled down his chin, staining his tiny hands and cheeks. He didn’t care. He was too busy discovering something magical.
The older monkeys watched with amusement as Kiko dove into the fruit like a little explorer on his first big adventure. He sat in the middle of the cracked dragon fruit, both hands grabbing handfuls of pulp, stuffing it into his mouth with childlike excitement. His whole face was soon covered in pink and white, and his belly began to bulge from eating so much.
He squeaked happily, his tail flicking behind him as he munched. Occasionally, he looked up at his mother with wide eyes, as if to say, “Why didn’t you tell me fruit could taste like this?”
His mother gave him a soft nudge, licking his messy fur and gently pulling him closer to clean his sticky face. Kiko protested with a playful chirp but allowed her to do it, resting against her in contentment.
Nearby, the troop finished the remaining pieces, and the forest fell into a calm, satisfied hush. The baby monkey curled up next to the empty dragon fruit shell, still holding a seed-covered chunk in one hand. He looked around the forest, sleepy but happy, the sweetness of the fruit still on his tongue.
That day, Kiko learned something simple but unforgettable: not all wonders come with fear or danger. Some come in the form of a bright pink fruit and the warmth of a mother’s care.
And from then on, whenever the scent of dragon fruit drifted through the trees, Kiko’s little heart would leap—not just for the taste, but for the memory of his first delicious adventure.
