The sky was still dark when the oldest female monkey in the troop climbed slowly to the top of the ancient fig tree. Her limbs trembled with each movement, and her breathing came in sharp, shallow bursts. She was old—older than any mother still living in the forest—and tonight her body carried a weight heavier than she had ever felt before.
Deep inside her belly, six tiny lives were ready to enter the world.
No monkey had seen such a rare birth in many seasons. Most mothers carried one baby, sometimes two, but six… six was unheard of. And for an old mother like her, it was almost beyond what her tired body could bear. Yet she climbed anyway, searching for a safe place where predators could not reach, where the wind would be her only witness.
Reaching the highest fork of the tree, she collapsed on a thick branch, panting. The wind rustled the leaves softly, almost as if comforting her. Her belly tightened painfully. She gripped the bark, steadying herself.
The first newborn arrived as the first thin hint of dawn touched the horizon. A tiny, wet, trembling infant slid into her hands. She lifted it weakly to her chest, turned it over, and cleaned its face with slow, careful licks. The newborn whimpered, curling its tiny fingers around her fur.
But she had no rest.
Her body tightened again.
The second newborn came minutes later. She struggled harder this time, her breath caught in her throat, her old bones shaking with effort. She almost dropped the baby, but she pulled it close, cradling it against the first.
Her eyes were already losing focus. She was too tired, too overwhelmed.
Still, nature pushed her forward.
By the time the third newborn came, the sun had begun to rise. The light revealed her trembling form—fur damp with sweat, legs shaking, chest rising and falling rapidly. She looked around, hoping for comfort, but she was alone in the treetop. No other monkey had followed her this high.
She licked the third baby weakly. Her arms felt like stones. Her head sagged. She wanted to rest, but pain forced her upright again.
The fourth infant came with difficulty. She cried out softly, a sound full of age and suffering. She placed the tiny baby beside the others, their fragile bodies pressed together for warmth.
Her vision blurred.
The wind grew stronger.
The branch swayed beneath her.
But she had two more lives inside her, pushing desperately for their first breaths.
With a final effort, she gave birth to the fifth infant. It was smaller than the others, barely breathing. She nudged it gently, licking its tiny chest, willing life into its weak heartbeat. The baby finally squirmed, letting out a faint mewling sound.
Her arms nearly collapsed in relief.
Then the last wave of pain hit her.
Her entire body shook. Her grip on the branch slipped. She clung to the tree with fading strength as the sixth newborn struggled into the world.
When it finally emerged, she could barely lift her head. She nudged the little one toward her chest, her breaths ragged and uneven.
Six newborns.
Six tiny, helpless lives.
Her old, tired body trembled from the unimaginable effort. She lay stretched across the branch, her babies pressed against her stomach, squeaking softly, searching for warmth and milk. She wrapped her thin arms around them, gathering them close so none would fall from the great height.
The treetop rocked gently with the wind, but she didn’t move.
Her eyelids drooped.
Her breathing was slow.
Exhaustion weighed down every muscle, every bone, every breath she took. She wanted to sleep—just for a moment. Just to close her eyes.
But the soft cries of the newborns kept her awake.
She blinked slowly, forcing herself to remain conscious. She pulled all six infants closer, shifting her tired body into a protective curve so they would be safe through their first fragile hours.
Her heart beat softly, faintly, but still strong enough for her babies to hear.
As the sun rose higher, lighting the treetops with golden warmth, the oldest monkey lay there—broken, exhausted, trembling—but alive, and wrapped around the six tiny miracles she had brought into the world.
Her strength was fading,
but her love held firm.
And in the high branches of the ancient tree, surrounded by morning light, a new chapter of life began.
