In a shaded corner of the forest sanctuary, a tiny baby monkey named Candy sat curled on a bed of dry leaves. Her wide, searching eyes blinked slowly, and every few minutes she let out a soft whimper. Candy was abandoned not long after birth and had since been under the care of a rescue team. Despite the humans’ best efforts, the feeling of loss lingered in her small heart.
What she missed most wasn’t just the presence of her mother—it was the comfort she’d come to know in her short time with the caretakers: her soft towel and her favorite milk bottle. The towel was faded pink, gently worn from use, but to Candy, it smelled like safety. She would hug it tightly and bury her face into it whenever the world felt too loud or unfamiliar.
But that morning, everything had gone strangely wrong. The towel and bottle, usually waiting for her after her morning nap, were missing. Perhaps the wind had blown them off the platform. Perhaps a curious older monkey had taken them to play. Candy didn’t understand why, but she knew they were gone.
She wandered a few feet from her sleeping mat, letting out quiet cries as she searched the small wooden deck where the caretakers often left her toys and feeding supplies. Other monkeys came and went, some pausing to glance at her, but no one helped. Candy sat back down and rocked herself gently, the way she remembered her mother doing just once before she was abandoned.
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher in the sky, and Candy’s small belly growled with hunger. One of the caretakers, noticing her distress, came running over with a fresh milk bottle. But it wasn’t the same bottle—this one was new, firm, and didn’t have the same shape Candy had grown used to holding.
Still, she took it with trembling hands. She drank slowly, cautiously, then set it down and whimpered again, sniffing the air for the scent of her towel. The caretaker knelt down and gently stroked her fur. He didn’t speak her language, but Candy felt a little warmth return from his touch.
Later in the afternoon, another surprise came. An older rescued monkey named Lila noticed Candy’s distress and brought over a soft leaf pouch she had made herself. It wasn’t a towel, but it was something. Candy touched it, sniffed it, and slowly, she accepted it. She leaned into Lila’s side, wrapping her tiny arms around the soft bundle.
As the sky turned orange and pink with dusk, Candy finally closed her eyes. The bottle was different. The towel was gone. But a new kind of comfort had found her—through the quiet, caring presence of another monkey who understood what it meant to feel alone.
And in the heart of the sanctuary, under the gentle care of both humans and her growing monkey family, Candy’s healing began.
