The little fox kit trotted through the sunlit meadow, nose twitching at every rustle.
He found a mossy hollow log and tapped it. It giggled. His ears shot straight up!
He tapped again. The log giggled harder, shaking leaves loose. 'Hooray!' yipped the kit.
The next morning, the kit trotted straight to the log. It giggled at once.
He tapped his tail and the log giggled along. They giggled for the rest of the morning.
He tried a tree stump — it hiccuped. He bumped a stone — it boomed. But every day, he returned to the log.
One evening he found a sparkly hill. He tapped the log excitedly — it let out a rumbling giggle-snort!
The kit tumbled backward into soft clover and howled with delight. The log guffawed right back.
From then on, they explored everywhere together. Tap — giggle. Tap — cackle. Tap — loud laugh that made butterflies dance.
In the golden evening light, Pip sat beside the hollow log. The world felt full of perfect, giggling mysteries.