The forest woke up in its usual way—soft sunlight slipping through the leaves, birds arguing loudly over branches, and the smell of ripe fruit hanging in the air. Everything felt normal. Too normal. That was exactly why Mom felt uneasy. She sat on a flat rock near their shelter, holding a half-peeled banana, watching CUTIS with narrowed eyes. Her instincts told her something strange was about to happen. When CUTIS was this quiet, it usually meant trouble.
CUTIS, on the other hand, was unusually busy. He moved back and forth between trees, carrying leaves, sticks, and even a shiny stone he had found near the stream. He placed them carefully in small piles, then rearranged them, then rearranged them again. Every few minutes, he stopped, tilted his head, and stared at his work like a serious artist judging a masterpiece. Mom blinked. Once. Twice. Her confusion grew.
“What are you doing?” her eyes seemed to ask.
CUTIS didn’t answer. He just smiled—an innocent, mysterious smile—and hurried off again. This time, he disappeared behind a thick bush. Mom’s heart skipped. Was he hiding food? Planning to run away? Playing another strange game he invented overnight? CUTIS had always been clever, but lately his ideas had become… unpredictable.
Mom stood up and followed quietly, stepping carefully so the dry leaves wouldn’t crunch under her feet. She peeked through the bushes and froze. CUTIS was digging a shallow hole with surprising focus, pushing dirt aside, then covering it again, then placing a large leaf on top like a secret marker. He looked around cautiously, as if checking whether anyone was watching. Mom’s eyes widened. Why is my child burying things? Her mind raced through possibilities, none of them comforting.
Before she could step closer, CUTIS suddenly jumped up and ran off in the opposite direction. Mom gasped softly and rushed after him. Her heart beat faster with every step. CUTIS weaved between trees, leaped over roots, and finally stopped near the old fallen log by the river. There, he began stacking stones—small ones at the bottom, bigger ones on top—carefully balancing them like a tiny tower.
Mom stopped short. Now she was truly confused 😱.
First burying things. Now building stone towers. CUTIS glanced back at her, eyes bright with excitement, and motioned with his hands as if telling her to wait. Wait for what? Mom wondered. Her banana lay forgotten on the rock behind her.
CUTIS ran again—this time to the riverbank. He splashed water onto his face, scooped some into a hollowed leaf, and carried it carefully back toward the shelter. Water spilled everywhere, soaking his fur, but he didn’t seem to care. He placed the leaf gently beside the piles of sticks and leaves from earlier.
Mom sat down heavily. Her head hurt. Is he practicing magic? Is he sick? Did he hit his head? Mothers know many worries, but this one was new.
CUTIS finally came over and stood in front of her, chest puffed out proudly. He made a few excited sounds and pointed first to the piles, then to the buried spot, then to the stone tower, then back to Mom. He waited, eyes shining, clearly expecting something.
Mom stared at him blankly.
Nothing.
CUTIS frowned. He tried again, this time acting everything out dramatically. He pretended to dig, pretended to stack stones, pretended to drink water from the leaf, and then pretended to lie down and sleep peacefully. Mom tilted her head. Slowly, a thought began to form—but it still didn’t make sense.
“You… are playing?” her eyes asked.
CUTIS shook his head vigorously. He grabbed Mom’s hand gently and led her to the shelter area. He pointed at the ground, then at her, then at himself, then spread his arms wide, indicating the forest. His movements were careful, thoughtful, almost grown-up.
That’s when Mom felt a strange mix of pride and fear.
CUTIS wasn’t playing.
He was planning.
He was showing her food storage, water sources, shelter materials, and safe places. He was mapping survival—his way. The buried items were food he had saved. The stone tower marked the river path. The leaf bowl was for carrying water. Every confusing action suddenly connected into one clear picture.
Mom’s confusion turned into shock 😱.
“Why?” her whole body asked silently.
CUTIS looked at her seriously now. He touched her shoulder, then his own chest, then pointed toward the forest again. His eyes softened. He was saying something important: If anything happens… I know what to do. If we are apart… I can survive. If you are weak… I can help.
Mom felt her throat tighten. She pulled CUTIS into a tight hug, holding him longer than usual. He squirmed a little, embarrassed by the sudden affection, but didn’t pull away. Her baby—no, not a baby anymore—had been thinking ahead while she was only thinking about today.
Still, that didn’t stop the confusion completely.
The next day, CUTIS took things even further.
Mom woke up to strange noises. Tap. Tap. Crack. She jumped up, alarmed, and rushed outside. CUTIS was hitting two stones together, carefully, rhythmically. Sparks didn’t fly, but his determination did. Nearby, dry leaves and twigs were arranged neatly.
Mom nearly fainted.
“Fire?” her mind screamed.
CUTIS beamed, clearly proud of his experiment. He hadn’t made fire—yet—but the idea alone made Mom’s head spin. She rushed over and gently pulled the stones from his hands, giving him the look. CUTIS froze. He knew that look very well.
He lowered his head sheepishly, then pointed at the cold morning air, rubbed his arms, and pretended to shiver. He was thinking about warmth. About comfort. About safety.
Mom sighed deeply.
Confused? Yes.
Worried? Very.
Proud? More than she wanted to admit.
As days passed, CUTIS continued his strange activities. He created paths using broken branches, learned which sounds meant danger, and even practiced hiding quietly when unfamiliar animals passed nearby. Sometimes, he deliberately walked the wrong way, then corrected himself, as if testing his memory. Mom watched all of this with mixed emotions.
One afternoon, CUTIS did something that finally broke her confusion—and her heart.
He brought her to the buried spot again. This time, he dug it up and revealed the food inside. Then he pushed it toward her and shook his head, refusing to eat. He pointed at her mouth instead.
Mom understood.
He had been preparing… for her.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she ate slowly, CUTIS watching carefully, relief spreading across his face with every bite she took. All the confusing actions, all the strange planning—it was love wearing the mask of chaos.
That night, Mom lay beside CUTIS, her arm protectively around him. The forest felt different now—not threatening, not uncertain, but shared. She realized that confusion often comes before understanding, and fear often hides growth.
CUTIS fell asleep quickly, exhausted from another day of thinking too much and doing even more. Mom watched him in the moonlight, smiling softly.
“CUTIS,” her heart whispered, “you confuse me… but you amaze me even more.”
And in the quiet forest, surrounded by plans, love, and a future still unfolding, Mom finally felt at peace—even if she still didn’t fully understand everything her clever child was doing 😱💚.
