The forest was quiet, except for the soft cries of a desperate mother. Angel, a graceful and gentle monkey, raced through the trees, panic in her heart. She had searched everywhere for her baby, Ale—calling his name, checking every branch, every nest. Then, through a clearing, she saw it: a cold, metal cage.
Inside, tiny Ale sat trembling—his arms wrapped around himself, eyes wide with fear. His fur was dirty, his spirit shaken. A human trapper had taken him, likely planning to sell him or take him far from the jungle he called home. Angel froze for just a moment, then let out a heart-wrenching cry—a loud, broken wail of pain and fear. The sound echoed through the trees like thunder.
Other animals stopped. Birds took flight. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Angel clung to the bars, trying to reach her baby. Ale, upon seeing his mother, reached out with trembling hands, whimpering softly. Their fingers touched through the gaps—mother and child connected, but still so far apart.
A group of wildlife rescuers, who had been tracking the illegal traps, heard Angel’s cry. Rushing toward the sound, they found the heartbreaking scene. Gently, they opened the cage and lifted Ale out. Angel stood nearby, still crying, still shaking, her eyes never leaving her baby.
