The village on the edge of the forest was always buzzing — children laughing, chickens clucking, fires crackling, and the occasional wild visitor darting through the trees. But early one morning, before the sun had fully risen, silence fell for just a moment.
And then — chaos.
A loud bark tore through the air, sharp and sudden like a crack of thunder.
The leaves shook.
Birds scattered.
And from the underbrush, a tiny baby monkey burst out — eyes wide with terror, limbs pumping frantically.
He was running for his life.
Behind him, a big puppy — not yet fully grown, but fast, clumsy, and full of wild curiosity — bounded through the grass, barking with high-pitched excitement. Its floppy ears flapped with each leap. Its paws hit the ground hard, sending dust flying. It didn’t mean to hurt the monkey — but it didn’t understand that a game to a dog could be terror to a baby monkey.
And to the monkey, this was no game.
His name was Pich, and he was barely old enough to climb on his own. He had strayed just a little too far from his mother while exploring near the edge of the village. One moment he was picking up a mango peel, sniffing it with wonder — the next, he heard the bark.
And he ran.
Now, his tiny heart pounded in his chest like a drum. His feet barely touched the ground as he dashed through the grass, the trees blurring on either side.
His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
Behind him, the puppy barked again and surged forward.
BOOF! BOOF!
Pich cried out — a high, panicked squeal. He didn’t know where he was going. He only knew he had to get away. He darted left, skidding in the dirt, then leapt over a broken coconut husk.
The puppy followed, tail wagging, mouth open, tongue lolling. Its paws thudded the earth with every bound.
To the puppy, it was fun.
To Pich — it was life or death.
He spotted a low fence up ahead — a wooden barrier with a few gaps just wide enough for a monkey to slip through.
He ran faster.
His little arms swung wildly. His breath burned. His legs ached.
The puppy closed the gap.
Ten feet away.
Five.
Pich gave one final cry and dove through the fence — his body sliding under the bottom slat just as the puppy slammed into it from behind, barking and scratching at the wood.
Pich tumbled onto the other side, rolled twice, and came to a stop under a banana tree. He lay there panting, eyes wide, body trembling.
He couldn’t move.
The puppy barked once more, then—bored or confused—turned and wandered back the way it came, tail wagging.
It was over.
But Pich didn’t know that yet.
He stayed frozen, gasping for air, his fur bristling with fear. Tears welled in his eyes. His tiny body felt like it had shrunk to half its size. Every sound made him flinch — a twig snapping, a leaf rustling, even the distant caw of a crow.
And then — a voice.
A soft clicking sound.
A chirp.
He turned his head slowly.
It was her.
His mother.
She had been searching, heart pounding, ever since he’d disappeared.
Now she came bounding over the fence in one leap, her eyes frantic until they locked on her baby.
She scooped him up instantly, pulling him close to her chest. He clung to her with all four limbs, burying his face in her fur, shaking from head to tail. She groomed his head, making soothing sounds, checking him from nose to toes.
No wounds.
No blood.
Just fear.
She rocked him gently, holding him tightly, letting him sob quietly against her.
It took time for Pich to calm down.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Eventually, his sobs faded into hiccups. His heartbeat slowed. He nestled deeper into her warmth.
His mother carried him up into the branches of a tall tree, far from the village, far from danger. She sat there, high above the world, the breeze rustling around them, the forest returning to its normal rhythm.
She didn’t scold him.
She didn’t let go.
She just held him, whispering silent reassurances only a mother can give.
You’re safe now.
I’m here.
I’ve got you.
That night, Pich clung to her as she slept. Even when she shifted, even when the troop moved branches, he didn’t let go. He was afraid it might happen again — that barking, that chase, the sound of giant paws crashing behind him.
But she never let him slip from her arms.
