The entire forest seemed to hold its breath as Mama Lira moved slowly through the trees, her swollen belly swaying gently with each step. She was in the final days of her pregnancy, and the troop watched her closely, offering whatever help they could. But despite their efforts, one troubling fact remained:
There was no medicine.
No herbs left in the usual spots.
No healing roots.
Nothing that could ease her discomfort or help her stay strong.
The dry season had burned most of the plants the troop normally relied on. Every mother was worried, every elder restless. Mama Lira tried to stay calm, but her breathing was heavy, her back ached terribly, and her energy was slipping day by day.
And that was when the most unexpected source of hope appeared…
Cutis.
The little monkey who was usually too naughty, too playful, and far too curious for his own safety suddenly became the hero no one expected.
He had always watched Mama Lira with curiosity—especially now that her belly was big and round, something he couldn’t resist touching. He would pat her, listen to the baby inside, and chirp happily every time he felt a kick. Mama Lira adored him, but she never imagined that he, of all monkeys, had been silently paying attention to her struggles.
Cutis might have been tiny, but his mind was sharper than anyone realized.
One hot morning, Mama Lira lay in the shade, her breath shallow and her eyes dull. The troop gathered around her, murmuring with worry. She needed help. But without medicine plants, what could they do?
Cutis stepped forward.
He studied her carefully, head tilted, eyes narrowed with rare seriousness. Something clicked in his little brain. He chirped loudly—“Eeek!”—then ran off so fast the troop couldn’t even stop him.
“Where is he going?” an auntie asked.
“He’ll get into trouble again,” another sighed.
“He’s probably playing,” the elder grumbled.
But Mama Lira smiled faintly.
“No… he knows something.”
And she was right.
Cutis sprinted through the forest with laser-focused determination. He wasn’t looking for herbs—he already knew they were gone. He was searching for something else. Something he had learned from humans months ago.
Humans always fascinated him. They healed cows, fed goats special plants when they were sick, and used strange methods that the troop never really understood. Cutis watched everything. Observed every movement. Memorized every trick.
And one trick stood out.
A method the humans used when medicine wasn’t available. A simple, natural, clever method that helped a pregnant cow regain strength:
Heat therapy.
He had watched the farmer warm smooth stones, wrap them in leaves, and place them on the cow’s belly and back. The cow had relaxed, her breathing had steadied, and she had recovered within hours.
Cutis never forgot it.
Now, it was Mama Lira who needed that miracle.
He first went to the shallow riverbank and rolled several smooth pebbles toward the shore. They were small enough for him to carry, but heavy enough to hold warmth. He pushed them up the bank, panting loudly but refusing to give up.
Once he had four stones, he lined them neatly like a tiny child preparing an offering.
Next, he gathered large green leaves—thick ones that wouldn’t burn easily. He used his teeth to peel them from branches, dragging them across the forest floor.
The final step was heat.
Cutis had seen humans warm stones with fire, but he couldn’t create fire. He didn’t need to. He had a smarter plan.
Near the edge of the forest lay a clearing where the sun was hottest. He dragged the stones—one by one—into the sun and arranged them carefully. Then he sat guard, waiting for them to warm.
He tested each stone with his tiny hand, touching and pulling back when it became too hot. When the temperature was just right—warm but not burning—he wrapped each stone in the large leaves.
Then came the hardest part.
Carrying them.
One stone he could carry in his arms. But four? Impossible. So he improvised. He placed two stones on a huge leaf, folded the corners around them, and held the bundle between his teeth, dragging it slowly but steadily toward the troop.
His tiny legs trembled.
His tail flicked with determination.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
But he kept going.
He refused to let Mama Lira suffer.
The troop saw him first as a wobbling shape between the bushes. Then they spotted the leaf bundle, then the stones, then the shocking truth:
Cutis had brought something useful.
“Cutis! What is that?”
“Where did he get those stones?”
“What is he doing?”
Cutis ignored the chatter. He went straight to Mama Lira, placed the leaf bundle at her feet, and began unfolding it with great ceremony.
Mama Lira blinked in confusion.
“Cutis…?”
He took a warm stone wrapped in a leaf, placed it gently on her lower back, and pressed it softly. The heat seeped through her sore muscles instantly.
She gasped.
“Oh… oh my… this feels… good.”
The troop stared.
Cutis grabbed the second warm stone and placed it on her side, where she had been aching for days. Then another. And another. He arranged them exactly the way he had seen the farmer arrange them on the pregnant cow.
Mama Lira lay back, letting out a shaky breath as the warmth soothed her body. For the first time in days, her pain eased. Her breathing slowed. Her heart rate steadied.
The elder monkey knelt beside her, shocked.
“It’s working… the boy knew this would work.”
Cutis sat proudly beside Mama Lira, grooming her fur as the stones did their magic.
The aunties murmured in awe:
“He’s such a clever child.”
“How did he learn this?”
“He saved her!”
Mama Lira reached out weakly and cupped his tiny face in her hand.
“You… little genius… thank you.”
Cutis cooed softly and curled up on her chest, satisfied that his special method was helping her recover without medicine.
Over the next hours, Mama Lira regained strength. Her pain lessened. Her appetite returned. She could even sit up straighter without wincing.
By evening, she felt strong enough to eat a full meal—something she hadn’t done in days. She looked at Cutis with tears in her eyes.
“You saved me without medicine. You used your mind, your memory, and your heart.”
Cutis snuggled into her belly proudly.
From that day on, the troop had a new level of respect for the little monkey who was once known only for mischief. They didn’t just call him naughty anymore.
They called him:
“Cutis the Healer.”
“Cutis the Smartest.”
“Cutis with the Special Method.”
But to Mama Lira, he would always be something even more precious:
Her tiny hero.
