“Watch this!” Tiko shouted proudly, standing tall on a branch that hung over the river. His friends cheered him on from behind, giggling and clapping their little hands.
Without hesitation, Tiko leapt from the branch toward a low tree on the opposite bank. But just as he soared through the air, something below the water shifted—a pair of yellow eyes blinked from under the surface.
It was a crocodile.
This crocodile, a silent and patient predator, had been watching the monkeys for days. He had noticed Tiko’s daily routines, his playful jumps, and his boldness. Today, he was ready. He had positioned himself just beneath the branch, hidden by mud and leaves, his powerful jaw slightly open.
As Tiko landed near the edge of the riverbank, the crocodile lunged.
The water exploded upward as the crocodile launched out of the muddy shallows, jaws wide, aiming for Tiko’s legs. The young monkey let out a sharp cry. He had never been so close to death before. At the last possible second, he scrambled backward, his paws scraping the wet dirt, barely escaping the deadly snap of the crocodile’s mouth.
The predator’s teeth slammed shut with a loud crack, just inches from Tiko’s tail.
Panicked, the other monkeys screamed from the trees. Tiko climbed frantically up a vine, breathing hard, his heart racing. The crocodile slipped back into the water, vanishing again into the shadows.
Back on a high branch, Tiko shook with fear and exhaustion. The jungle had fallen silent. Even the birds stopped chirping. He realized how close he had come to being dragged under.
From that day on, Tiko never played near the river again.
He still jumped and played, but with more care. The near-death experience had taught him something: sometimes, even the most exciting game isn’t worth the risk.
And every time he passed that river, he looked down and remembered those yellow eyes—and the lesson he would never forget.
