The forest was quiet that morning, except for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. High up in the ancient trees, a tiny newborn clung desperately to its mother, still fragile and wet from birth. But old MaMa, once gentle and caring, looked at her tiny one with a cold, unrecognizable gaze.
For the first time, she did not cradle or comfort her baby. Instead, her pigtails swayed as she stepped back, hesitating for a moment—as if the thought of rejection weighed heavily in her mind. Then, in a heart-stopping instant, she abandoned the little life she had brought into the world. The newborn tumbled from the high branches, a helpless cry piercing the forest.
Birds scattered, startled by the sudden commotion. Leaves shook violently, and the forest floor seemed impossibly far away for the tiny creature. The baby landed with a soft thud on a bed of moss, but the shock of the fall left it trembling, its tiny chest heaving as it tried to breathe.
Other animals watched silently from nearby branches, sensing the tragedy that had unfolded. Old MaMa looked down briefly, her face expressionless, then disappeared into the shadows. There was no comfort, no warmth—only the cold reality of rejection.
Yet, even in this moment of despair, life clung stubbornly to the little one. Its tiny hands gripped the mossy ground, eyes wide with confusion and fear. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see if this fragile life could survive the cruelty of abandonment.
The world can be harsh, even in places of beauty. But sometimes, from the deepest sorrow, the smallest spark of hope begins to flicker.
