The morning sun rose over a wide, empty field at the edge of the forest. The air was still cool, and the mist hung low above the grass. Far away, birds were calling, but in the center of the field, the sound was different — soft, broken, and filled with pain.
Two tiny baby monkeys sat huddled together on the ground, their small bodies trembling. Their fur was dusty, their faces wet with tears. Every few seconds, one of them let out a weak cry, a thin, helpless sound that echoed across the silent field.
They were orphans — their mother was gone, and they didn’t know where to go or what to do.
The Lonely Field
The field was a dangerous place for such small creatures. It was open, with no trees to climb for safety, no shadows to hide under. Only dry grass and scattered stones surrounded them. The older one, slightly bigger, tried to keep his arm around his younger sibling, pressing their heads close together. But both were shaking with fear.
They had spent the night alone, shivering in the cold, calling out into the darkness for a mother who never came. Every sound — the rustle of wind, the chirp of an insect — made them flinch. Their tiny hearts raced with panic.
When the first light touched the horizon, they began to move slowly through the grass, looking for something familiar. But the world around them was strange and empty.
Searching for the Mother
The younger baby monkey, weaker and more frightened, called out again — a long, sad cry that broke the morning silence. The sound carried far, a desperate plea for help. The older one joined in, their voices rising together, trembling with grief.
But no answer came.
They didn’t understand that their mother was gone forever. They only knew she wasn’t there to hold them, to feed them, to keep them warm. Every step they took seemed to bring more fear, more confusion.
The older one stopped and looked around. His small face, smeared with dirt, showed exhaustion beyond his young age. He pulled the smaller one close, wrapping his arms around him. The two sat together again, eyes wide and glassy, staring at the horizon.
The field, once bright with morning light, now felt endless and cruel.
The Cry of Fear
As the day grew hotter, the babies began to weaken. Hunger gnawed at their bellies. They had not eaten since the day before. The younger one’s cries became softer, turning into faint whimpers. The older one tried to lick his sibling’s face, a small gesture of comfort — the only thing he knew to do.
Every time the wind blew, they shivered. Every time a crow called overhead, they ducked, pressing their heads low. Their fear was raw and deep, the kind that only helpless creatures can feel.
Soon, they lay side by side in the grass, eyes half-closed, their cries fading to small sobs. The world around them was still, but their hearts were pounding.
Human Discovery
Late that afternoon, a farmer walking along the edge of the field heard the sound — faint, sorrowful cries carried by the wind. He stopped, listening carefully. At first, he thought it was a bird. But when he followed the sound, he saw the two small shapes huddled together among the weeds.
When he came closer, the babies tried to crawl away, terrified. Their little bodies trembled violently. The older one stood in front, as if trying to protect the younger. But there was no strength left in him.
The man crouched down slowly, speaking softly. “It’s okay… don’t be afraid.” His voice was gentle, but the monkeys didn’t understand the words. They only saw a huge figure towering over them. They cried louder, pressing against each other, eyes wide with panic.
But the man didn’t give up. He sat quietly, not moving too fast, letting them see he meant no harm. After a few minutes, the babies’ cries weakened again — not from trust, but from exhaustion.
The man took off his jacket and laid it gently on the ground. Then, slowly, he lifted the two tiny monkeys together and wrapped them inside it. They were too weak to resist. Their eyes fluttered, their breathing shaky.
He could feel how cold their bodies were, how light they felt in his arms.
Warmth and Hope
The man carried them back to his home at the edge of the village. His wife gasped when she saw them — two fragile, frightened lives curled together, covered in dust. They quickly prepared a small box with cloth to keep them warm.
At first, the baby monkeys didn’t move. They were too scared, too weak. But after a while, the warmth of the soft cloth and the quiet voices around them began to calm their trembling.
The older one opened his eyes first. He saw the woman’s hand holding a small milk bottle near his mouth. He hesitated — then slowly began to drink. The younger one followed, taking small sips, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of the cloth.
For the first time since losing their mother, they felt something safe — warmth, comfort, and care.
The Night of Peace
That night, the two baby monkeys slept close together inside their new box, covered with a small blanket. The house was quiet, only the sound of crickets outside. The older one occasionally reached out to touch his sibling, making sure he was still there.
They still cried softly in their sleep — small, broken sounds of memory and fear — but no longer from cold or hunger.
Outside, under the moonlight, the wide field where they had been found lay silent again. The grass swayed gently in the breeze. It was no longer a place of fear, but of memory — where two little orphans had cried for help, and where kindness had heard them.
A New Beginning
By the next morning, the baby monkeys were stronger. They drank milk again, blinked up at their caretakers, and made tiny playful sounds. Though their eyes still carried sadness, there was now a faint light of hope within them.
The villagers who saw them couldn’t help but smile. These two small survivors, once lost and terrified in a lonely field, were alive — and loved.
Their story became a quiet reminder to everyone in the village: that even the smallest cries of fear deserve to be heard, and that compassion can turn sorrow into safety.
And so, the two orphaned baby monkeys began a new life — together, no longer alone, no longer scared.
