Gibbon gibbon gibbon gibbon! Don't you just love saying that? It's the sort of thing that reminds you of the feral morning air, singing arias in your sinuses, and the bats and the bears! God, bats and bears! Both types of bats, too. This was no walk around the park, this was full-fledged fledgelinghood on the hoof.
And if you're lucky, there'll be a gibbon moon, where the huskies go. It glints and dances off the doggie wee wee smartly, beholden to none but the Auroras, all three that are known to this writer. One contained a base, the others all lit up and pretty.