Searching for Mama

The sun, once a bright, giggling ball of light, was now a sleepy orange eye peeking through the leafy canopy. Tiggy’s paws felt heavy, his yawns were getting bigger, and the urge to chase butterflies had all but vanished. He missed the warm rumble of his Mama’s purr, the soft brush of her fur against his cheek. He missed feeling safe. The jungle, which had seemed so full of exciting places to explore just a little while ago, now felt vast and a little bit spooky. Every rustle of leaves sounded like a whisper, and the shadows stretched out like long, dark fingers. Tiggy’s little tiger heart thumped a worried rhythm against his ribs. He needed his Mama.

He pushed himself up, his small legs still a bit wobbly. He sniffed the air, hoping to catch the familiar, comforting scent of Mama Tiger. But all he smelled was damp earth, sweet blossoms, and the faint, sleepy scent of other napping creatures. He padded softly, his striped fur blending with the dappled light filtering through the trees. "Mama?" he whispered, his voice barely a puff of air. No answer. He tried again, a little louder this time, "Mamaaa!" The sound seemed to get swallowed by the quiet.

He walked past the giant banyan tree where he had tried to play with the monkeys earlier. The branches were still, no chattering filled the air. He peeked into the hollow log where the parrots usually squawked and preened. Only silence. He even tiptoed near the watering hole where the big, grey elephant friend had been splashing. The elephant was nowhere to be seen, just still water reflecting the fading sky. Tiggy’s tummy gave a little lurch. It was so quiet. Too quiet.