Curling Up Close

Tiggy’s little legs felt heavy, like he’d been running through thick mud all day, even though he hadn’t really run anywhere. The sun, which had been so bright and warm just a little while ago, now seemed to be hiding behind a soft, hazy blanket. Everything was quieter, too. The chattering monkeys had stopped their games, the squawking parrots were silent, and even the rumbling elephants seemed to have hushed their playful trumpeting. It was as if the whole jungle had decided to take a deep breath and… well, a deep nap.

A big, wide yawn stretched Tiggy’s jaws, a yawn so enormous it felt like it might swallow his whole head. His eyelids drooped, heavy as pebbles. He wanted to play, to chase butterflies and pounce on rustling leaves, but his body just wouldn’t listen. It was as if his paws had suddenly forgotten how to wiggle and his tail had decided to stay perfectly still. He looked around for his friends, hoping for a game of tag or a friendly wrestling match. But there was no one. The monkey with the bright, curious eyes was curled up on a branch, fast asleep. The parrot, usually so full of colorful chatter, was nestled amongst the leaves, its feathers ruffled in slumber. Even the gentle giant elephant, who loved to spray Tiggy with water, was fast asleep, its big ears gently swaying.

A tiny shiver, not from cold but from a strange, lonely feeling, rippled through Tiggy. The jungle, which was usually so full of life and noise, felt enormous and empty. The rustling leaves now sounded a little spooky, and the shadows under the big trees seemed to stretch and dance in a way that made his fur prickle. He missed the warmth of his friends, the playful nudges, and the happy squeaks. He missed the familiar scent of his mama, too.