In the deep heart of the forest, where the soft light of morning filters through the canopy, a faint, weak cry echoes from behind a fallen tree. It is the voice of Rainbow, a fragile baby monkey whose life now hangs by a thread.
Rainbow was once the liveliest baby in her troop — a bundle of curiosity and joy who loved climbing her mother’s back and reaching for anything that glittered in the sunlight. Her big, bright eyes reflected the world’s beauty and innocence. But now, those same eyes are heavy with pain and exhaustion. Her tiny body lies motionless, her breath shallow, her fur covered with dust and scratches.
Something has gone terribly wrong.
For the past few days, Rainbow has grown weaker. Her mother has been trying desperately to help — holding her close, grooming her softly, and nudging her to eat. But Rainbow can no longer swallow well. The sweetness of fruit and the warmth of milk no longer bring her strength. Instead, she trembles and whimpers, too frail even to cling to her mother’s fur.
The troop senses something is wrong. Other mothers watch quietly from a distance, their eyes filled with worry. A few curious juveniles approach, sniffing at the small body before being chased away by Rainbow’s anxious mother. She doesn’t leave her baby’s side, even for a moment. Her hands cradle the little one, as if trying to shield her from the world’s cruelty.
But love alone cannot heal what nature has taken. Rainbow’s breathing slows. Her once-playful tail twitches weakly. The forest that was once filled with her cheerful chatter now feels unbearably silent.
When rescuers arrive after hearing reports from villagers, they find a heartbreaking sight — the mother sitting quietly under a tree, clutching Rainbow’s limp body, tears glistening in her tired eyes. She lets out soft, desperate cries, as if begging for someone to help her baby. The rescuers kneel slowly, careful not to frighten her. One of them whispers gently, “It’s okay, little one… we’re here to help.”
They move carefully, wrapping Rainbow in a clean cloth. Her mother resists at first, crying out in fear, not understanding these human hands. But when Rainbow whimpers softly — a tiny sound, barely a breath — she steps back, as if realizing this might be her baby’s only chance.
At the rescue center, the team works quickly. They clean her wounds, feed her drops of warm milk, and cover her with a soft blanket. Machines hum softly around her, measuring her heartbeat. For a moment, her eyes flicker open, catching the light — faint, but alive.
Rainbow’s future is uncertain. The days ahead will be hard, filled with long hours of care and prayers. Yet, in the gentle hands that now cradle her, there is hope.
She may be small and weak, but Rainbow’s name itself is a promise — a sign that even after the storm, there can still be light.
