Cutis had never known a day quite like this one. The jungle was alive with its usual sounds—chirping birds, rustling leaves, and the occasional snap of branches as monkeys leapt from tree to tree. But in the heart of it all, a storm was brewing, not in the sky, but in the heart of Cutis’s mother.
“Cutis!” she screeched, her fur bristling and her eyes wild with anger. “You went near the humans again? After all I’ve said?”
Cutis lowered his head. He was a young monkey, not yet full grown, but old enough to understand the rules of the troop. Still, curiosity had always pulled at him like vines on his tail. The human village, with its strange smells and colorful noises, fascinated him. And yesterday, something even more irresistible had happened.
“I didn’t mean any harm,” Cutis murmured. “I just… I found a baby. A newborn monkey. But alone. Crying.”
His mother’s jaw clenched. “And where did this ‘baby’ come from? A trap, maybe? A trick! You think humans leave monkey babies lying around for fun?”
“No,” Cutis said softly. “This one was real. I could feel it. I took him in my arms. He was so small and cold. I named him Pip.”
The troop elders gathered nearby were already whispering. Cutis had broken a sacred code—interfering with anything touched by humans was forbidden. They said it cursed you. Changed you. Made you something less than monkey.
His mother stepped closer, her voice now trembling with more than just rage. “You don’t understand. Your father died because of them. He thought he could ‘rescue’ a baby too. It was a trick. A trap. He never came back.”
Cutis blinked, stunned. He had never known the full story. Only whispers. He hadn’t known his father had made the same choice.
“I didn’t know…” he began.
“And now you bring danger to our door,” she cried. “We don’t know what diseases, what signals—what human scent that baby might carry. You’ve put us all at risk!”
“But Pip is innocent!” Cutis protested. “He’s one of us. He needs love, not fear.”
“Then go love him somewhere else,” his mother snapped. “You’re not welcome here if you choose him.”
The words hit harder than any fall from a tree. Cutis’s breath caught in his chest. The troop looked away, some with pity, some with judgment. His younger sister sobbed quietly behind a rock, but no one spoke in his defense.
Cutis looked down at Pip, curled in the crook of his arm, barely the size of a coconut. The newborn’s eyes blinked open, and Cutis felt a fierce surge of love. Maybe this was what his father had felt.
“I understand,” Cutis said softly. “I’ll go.”
The jungle felt different that night as he left. The trees no longer felt like home, and the stars above seemed too far away. Cutis walked in silence, Pip sleeping soundly against his chest. The wind whispered through the leaves, almost as if it were saying goodbye too.
He found shelter in a hollow tree, far from the troop’s territory. It wasn’t much, but it was dry and safe. That night, as he watched Pip breathe, a quiet determination grew in Cutis’s heart. He would raise this baby. He would make a home. Even if it meant doing it all alone.
Days passed. Cutis scavenged for food and built a small nest. He wrapped Pip in leaves at night and sang to him softly. Though he missed his family, he felt a new kind of strength blooming inside him. Every little giggle from Pip, every time those tiny fingers wrapped around his, Cutis knew he had made the right choice.
But life in the jungle alone wasn’t easy. Predators lurked. Food was sometimes scarce. Cutis was often tired, but he never gave up. One morning, Pip made his first climb onto a low branch, and Cutis clapped his hands with pride.
One day, while foraging near a river, Cutis heard rustling. He froze. Then, to his surprise, he saw his younger sister peeking from behind a tree.
“Mom’s still mad,” she said softly. “But she misses you. I do too.”
Cutis felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “I miss you all. But I couldn’t leave Pip.”
“I know,” she said. “He looks happy. Strong.”
“Thanks to you,” she added.
She tossed him a bundle of bananas. “I’ll leave food here sometimes. I’ll tell you news from the troop.”
Before he could reply, she disappeared back into the trees.
Weeks turned into months. Pip grew stronger, climbing higher, chattering more, playing with the butterflies and chasing lizards. Cutis taught him everything—how to groom, how to swing, how to stay safe.
He still remembered his mother’s face that day. The anger. The fear. But he also remembered her eyes—full of pain and loss. Now that he understood her past, he no longer hated her for sending him away.
One bright morning, as Cutis and Pip sat eating figs, the sound of many footsteps approached. Cutis tensed, ready to flee, but what he saw made him freeze.
It was his mother. And behind her, the troop.
Cutis stood protectively in front of Pip. “I told you, I’m not coming back without him.”
His mother looked older. Her eyes weren’t angry this time—they were wet with tears.
“I came… to say I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I let fear blind me. You did what I couldn’t. You were brave. Just like your father.”
The trees were silent. Even the birds paused their songs.
“You can come home,” she said, voice trembling. “Both of you. If you still want to.”
Cutis’s breath caught in his throat. He turned to Pip, who was now bouncing up and down, clapping his tiny hands.
“We’d like that,” Cutis said, smiling.
The jungle was alive again, but this time, it was with joy. As the troop welcomed Cutis and Pip back, the birds seemed to sing louder, the trees seemed taller, and the wind now whispered something new:
Home.
Would you like a specific tone for this (funny, emotional, more fantasy-style, etc.), or maybe a version rewritten in simpler English or another language?
