So Shocked! Dawn’s Sentence by Tiny Sisters, Amber Boss Threatens Lucie, Poor Mom Isolated for Hours
It was early morning in the thick, tangled jungle, where dew still clung to the leaves and silence hovered like mist in the air. The monkey troop slowly began to stir, and the quiet was broken by the chatter of babies and the soft grunts of mothers grooming their young.
But this morning was different—tension hung in the trees.
Lucie, a gentle but timid mother monkey, had been keeping her distance from the group. For days, she and her baby had been spending long hours alone on the outskirts of the territory, far from the safety and comfort of the main troop. She looked tired, her fur dusted with dirt, her eyes sunken with worry.
The reason? Amber, the dominant female—the boss.
Amber was fierce and quick to judge. She didn’t like weakness, and she certainly didn’t like competition. Ever since Lucie’s baby had been born, Amber had been acting cold toward her, making threatening postures and blocking access to food. The troop followed Amber’s lead, and Lucie had found herself slowly pushed out, forced to survive in isolation with her newborn.
But things took a turn that morning.
Dawn, the young daughter of Amber, was known to be outspoken and clever beyond her years. She sat high in the tree beside her two younger sisters, chatting in her usual fast and loud voice. But this time, something about her tone changed. She leaned forward, eyes wide, and said something that would ripple through the troop like a fallen branch in still water.
“We all know Amber’s mad at Lucie,” Dawn said suddenly, “but… she’s been too harsh. Mom shouldn’t threaten babies. That’s not how a boss should act.”
The two younger sisters gasped, their little mouths forming O-shapes. One of them tugged at Dawn’s arm, whispering, “You can’t say that! Mom will hear!”
But it was too late. Several monkeys nearby had already heard, including Lucie, who was crouched at the edge of the troop, listening with wide, surprised eyes. The words stung her heart, but they also brought warmth—someone had spoken for her. Even if it was a child.
Amber, perched nearby on a lower branch, slowly turned her head. Her glare locked onto Dawn with terrifying stillness. The trees went silent.
She hissed sharply and leapt down toward the three sisters. The entire troop froze.
“What did you say?” Amber’s voice was low, deadly. Dawn shrank back, but her eyes didn’t leave her mother’s. She was scared, but not ashamed. “Lucie’s baby didn’t do anything. You keep scaring her! It’s not right.”
Amber bared her teeth but didn’t strike. Her chest heaved, breath heavy. Then she turned her fury away from her daughter—and focused it on Lucie.
She stomped toward her, making loud, aggressive sounds that sent birds flying from the trees. Lucie clutched her baby tighter and backed away, trembling. Amber stood before her, puffed up and towering. She growled, warning Lucie to stay away from the others—especially the young ones.
With fear in her heart and tears shining in her eyes, Lucie turned and fled deeper into the jungle. She climbed a tall tree far from the troop and stayed there, hugging her baby as the hours passed. Alone. Hungry. Isolated once again.
As the sun climbed higher, casting harsh light through the canopy, a few young monkeys began to whisper about what had happened. Dawn had dared to speak truth, and even though Amber hadn’t punished her, the threat was clear.
Still, something had changed. A small crack had opened in Amber’s rule. The tiny sisters had spoken, and others had listened. Lucie, though alone, had seen a glimmer of something she hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.
By late afternoon, when the forest buzzed with insects and the shadows began to stretch, a soft sound came from below Lucie’s tree. She looked down.
It was Dawn. Alone.
She climbed quietly and sat a few feet away. “I’m sorry Mom scared you,” she whispered. “You’re not bad. And your baby is cute.”
Lucie blinked, speechless. She nodded slowly, feeling a tear roll down her cheek.
In that fragile, quiet moment, Lucie no longer felt completely isolated. There was kindness—even among the smallest voices.
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