The sun had barely touched the tops of the ancient ruins when the peaceful silence of Angkor Wat’s sacred forest was shattered by a cry — sharp, small, and full of pain.
It was Candy.
A baby monkey no older than a few months, Candy had always been the gentle one among her troop. Her fur was golden-brown and soft, her eyes round and curious. She stayed close to her mother, Cella, barely venturing far from her warm side. Tourists who visited the temple grounds often marveled at Candy’s sweet nature and shy, clumsy steps.
But that morning, something terrible happened.
Bonita — an older, dominant male known to guards and locals — had become increasingly aggressive over the past few weeks. Some speculated it was due to shifting troop dynamics. Others said he was simply growing too powerful, unchecked. Whatever the reason, he had turned volatile.
No one expected he would target Candy.
Witnesses say that Candy had been quietly exploring near a mossy rock, just steps away from her mother, when Bonita lunged. There was no warning. One minute, the jungle hummed with birdcalls and soft monkey chatter — and the next, screams.
Candy’s scream cut through the forest like glass.
The male pinned her tiny body down with shocking force. Her squeals turned frantic. She flailed, struggling to escape. Her mother Cella raced to her, shrieking in terror, but Bonita swatted her away like a leaf in the wind.
Onlookers — both locals and visitors — were horrified. Some yelled. Some cried. A few even tried to intervene. But Bonita was too strong, too fast. Candy’s soft body twisted under the weight of his aggression.
And then… he let go.
Candy slumped onto the ground. Her left arm hung limply, her fur matted with dirt and tiny scratches. Her wide eyes stared ahead, silent now, almost as if in shock.
Cella scooped her up immediately. She pressed Candy to her chest and rocked back and forth, making low, distressed coos. The way her hands trembled showed she was just as shaken as the tiny creature in her arms.
Those who saw it — especially the children among the visitors — couldn’t hold back tears.
It wasn’t just the pain. It was the injustice.
Why would a big, powerful male like Bonita attack such an innocent, defenseless baby? Candy wasn’t a threat. She had done nothing. Yet, in the brutal rules of the wild, strength sometimes trampled innocence.
Forest rangers were called shortly after. They monitored Candy closely but, thankfully, her injuries appeared to be non-lethal. Her tiny bones seemed intact, though she was bruised, emotionally and physically. A caretaker familiar with the troop said, “Candy’s lucky to be alive. Bonita could’ve ended her in a second. But maybe… maybe something held him back.”
Since the attack, Candy’s troop has been quieter. Cella rarely puts her baby down now, often holding her for hours, grooming her gently as if trying to erase the pain.
Bonita, for his part, has remained on the edge of the troop — tolerated but watched.
In the days that followed, the story of Candy’s attack has gone viral among animal lovers. Visitors to Angkor have left flowers near the area she was hurt. Children draw pictures of her and send blessings through social media.
One American tourist wrote, “I saw Candy last year, when she was just learning to walk. This breaks my heart. She didn’t deserve this. Stay strong, little girl.”
And maybe that’s the only light in this darkness — the outpouring of love for one small monkey who now symbolizes resilience in the face of cruelty.
Candy is recovering, slowly. She still flinches when large males walk near. But she’s holding on. And thanks to her mama’s endless love — and the silent prayers of thousands around the world — she may one day run again with joy in the ancient forest of Angkor Wat.
Let us never forget the cry she gave… and let us always remember that even in the wild, the smallest life deserves the strongest protection.