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Block Lucie’s Breath, Mom Runs Safe from Rojo, Libby Leaps Like a Frog to Chase Amber for Feeds Angrily
Deep inside the ancient jungle, the days were hot and humid, thick with the buzz of insects and the distant cries of wild creatures. A troop of macaques thrived in this chaotic paradise, where every tree branch was a potential battleground, and each day brought its own drama. In the heart of this troop were a few unforgettable characters: Lucie, a timid baby monkey struggling to breathe; her protective mother Nira; the dominant but unpredictable male Rojo; the fierce and daring Libby; and the ever-hungry, slippery Amber.
The day began quietly enough. The morning sun cut soft golden rays through the dense canopy. The troop had settled near the riverbank, grooming, foraging, and playing. Baby Lucie was nestled close to her mother Nira’s chest, nursing and occasionally glancing up at the leaves fluttering above. But peace in this troop was always temporary. Danger came when no one expected it.
Rojo, the powerful alpha male, had been in a foul mood since sunrise. He paced among the troop with stiff shoulders and twitching lips. Nira kept her distance, clutching Lucie tightly. She knew Rojo’s temper could be deadly, especially when his authority felt threatened.
As the troop moved deeper into the trees, Lucie—still very young—began to squirm. Something was wrong. Her tiny face contorted, and she gasped for breath. A small berry had gotten lodged in her throat during a brief foraging moment. Her chest heaved, eyes wide in panic. Nira noticed immediately. With a panicked squeal, she cradled Lucie and tried to help her breathe. But their commotion drew attention.
Rojo’s sharp eyes turned. He mistook the panic for defiance.
He let out a warning bark and lunged toward them.
Nira didn’t think twice. With Lucie clinging to her chest, she bolted into the thicket, jumping from branch to branch, her heart pounding. She didn’t know if her baby would breathe again, but she couldn’t let Rojo catch them. Behind her, Rojo howled and thrashed, enraged that a low-ranking female dared flee from his presence.
Leaves shattered beneath his stomping paws, branches snapped. Nira ducked under vines and swung to a tall fig tree, finally stopping behind a thick trunk, gasping. Lucie let out a weak cough — and then another. The berry dislodged. She could breathe again.
Tears welled in Nira’s eyes. Her baby was alive.
But the chaos didn’t end there.
Elsewhere, another storm was brewing. Libby, one of the most spirited females in the troop, had just given birth recently and was fiercely protective of her own feeding rights. She had spotted Amber — a young, bold monkey — stealing pieces of ripe fruit and even daring to approach her feeding spot near the large rock by the waterfall.
Amber, light on her feet and always sneaky, had developed a habit of snatching what she didn’t earn. Today, she had taken two pieces of banana from a leaf that Libby had clearly claimed. It was the last straw.
Libby’s eyes narrowed, and without warning, she crouched low, muscles tensing, and leapt — like a frog springing into the air — straight toward Amber.
The troop watched in astonishment. Libby’s leap was graceful and wild at once. She landed with force just behind Amber, sending her scrambling in fear. But Libby wasn’t done. She gave chase, huffing angrily, her voice echoing in the trees with high-pitched screeches.
Amber darted through the branches, clutching the stolen fruit, squealing for help. But no one came. The other monkeys watched from a distance, not daring to get between the two.
Libby chased her past the riverbank, over a moss-covered log, and up into the canopy where light filtered through thick leaves. There, cornered and out of options, Amber dropped the fruit. It bounced once and tumbled down into the bushes.
Libby hissed and bared her teeth, not striking Amber, but clearly asserting dominance. Amber lowered her body in submission, panting heavily, knowing she had crossed a line.
Satisfied, Libby turned away, leapt down—again with her iconic frog-like agility—and reclaimed what little remained of the food. The troop murmured among themselves, recognizing Libby’s authority over her feeding space. From that day on, Amber kept her distance when Libby was around.
Back near the fig tree, Nira emerged slowly, still clutching Lucie, who was now breathing softly, her body recovering. Rojo had moved off in another direction, his rage short-lived. But Nira remained cautious. She groomed Lucie gently, whispering low coos as the baby clung to her fur. Other mothers gathered around her, checking if Lucie was okay. The scare had shaken them all.
By mid-afternoon, the troop had settled again. The sun shifted through the trees, and quiet returned. The drama of the morning began to fade into memory, but the lessons remained.
Lucie’s breath had nearly stopped, and only her mother’s swift action saved her. Nira would forever carry the fear of that moment in her heart. Rojo’s aggression, unchecked and irrational, reminded everyone that safety was never guaranteed, even among their own.
Libby’s leap and fury had reminded the troop that respect and boundaries mattered—especially in a world where food and space were shared among many.
Amber, chastened and humbler, now sat alone near the edge of the water, watching her reflection in the ripples. She munched slowly on a fallen fruit, learning that sometimes, taking without asking came with consequences.
As dusk approached, the forest seemed to exhale. Birds settled into nests. Leaves stopped fluttering. And in the quiet branches above, baby Lucie slept soundly against Nira’s chest, her breath steady and calm once more.
Even in a world of constant danger and wild emotion, the jungle had its rhythm. And on this day, survival, strength, and bold leaps—both literal and emotional—had told their tale.
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