At sunrise, the fur on Niko’s shoulders shone like ripe mangoes. “There goes Golden Monkey!” the parrots called as he swung through the forest. Niko always stopped where the light was brightest.
He was certain a monkey with such a splendid name ought to own something splendid, too.
A glimmer in the stream
One dry afternoon, Niko spotted a golden glimmer beneath a waterfall. He climbed down the rocks and reached into the cold pool. Out came a smooth, shining pebble, no bigger than a fig.
“A treasure!” he whispered.
He polished it with a leaf. He held it against his fur. Then he tucked it into the hollow of an old tree, where nobody else could admire it or accidentally borrow it forever.
On his way home, he met Suri the squirrel dragging an empty seed basket.
“The little spring has stopped,” she said. “Will you help us find out why?”
Niko glanced back at the hiding place. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I am looking after something valuable.”
The thirsty forest
By morning, the fern tips had curled. The butterflies gathered around a single damp footprint. At the spring, three families of birds waited beside a muddy hollow.
Niko brought his pebble to show them. Nobody looked.
“Very shiny,” murmured Suri, peering up the dry streambed. “Can it carry water?”
Niko closed his fingers around it. “No.”
“Then come with me.”
They followed the channel uphill. Roots twisted across their path, and dry leaves crunched underfoot. At the narrowest bend, they found a fallen branch wedged between two stones. Behind it, a thick wall of mud and leaves held back the spring.
Something worth letting go
Suri pulled at a twig. Niko tugged the branch. It shifted a little, then trapped his wrist against the rock. He could pull his hand free only if he opened it.
Inside his fist lay the golden pebble. Below it, a dark crack ran deep between the stones.
Niko twisted his arm. He tried one more careful tug. The pebble scraped his palm.
“Leave it,” Suri said softly. “I need both your hands.”
Niko opened his fingers. The pebble clicked once against the rock and disappeared.
For a moment, he stared into the crack. Then he planted both feet, gripped the branch with both hands, and heaved.
The branch rolled free. Suri sprang aside. Water burst through the leaves, soaked Niko from nose to tail, and rushed downhill with a sound like applause.
Gold in the branches
By sunset, the spring was singing again. Birds splashed in the shallows. Suri filled little leaf cups for the youngest squirrels. Niko sat nearby, picking mud out of his fur.
“Did you lose your treasure?” a young squirrel asked.
“Yes,” Niko said. He could still picture its bright, smooth surface. “I wish I had put it down before we started.”
Suri handed him a cup of cool water. “Come back tomorrow. We can make a safer path to the spring.”
Niko took a long drink. “I will bring both hands.”
The last sunlight reached through the trees and settled on his muddy shoulders. From the branches came the parrots’ familiar call: “Golden Monkey!”
This time, Niko did not stop to find the brightest patch of light. He was busy helping Suri carry the empty cups home.
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