“Her great call rises with the light itself — the forest's alarm clock, set to beautiful.”
A Sunbeam ape of The Singers
3 known connections · an open question
The living story
The story so far
Aria's great call — the gibbon's soaring dawn song — has opened the forest's day for nine seasons. She sings it like the light depends on it. The forest behaves as though it does.
Happening now
Toba speaks his one sentence after her call; Sona glows; the day begins. The dawn has a sequence, and Aria is its first note.
What may come
She slows — almost imperceptibly — so Echo can keep up an octave below. She will deny this. The forest has heard it.
“Aria sings. Then Toba speaks — one sentence. Then Sona glows — or Sona glows while Toba speaks; the order is disputed, the sequence is not. The dawn has a choreography no one wrote and everyone performs. Vesper closes it at dusk; Hush hums it to sleep. The forest's day is fully staffed, fully sung — and at the center of it, the Oldest's branch, moving with no wind. The sequence, the keepers whisper, is older than the singers. The singers are just the current performers of a dawn that was already happening.”
because her great call rises with the light itself
because the dawn has a sequence and she is its first note
because she slows down — almost imperceptibly — so Echo can keep up
The Singers
The gibbons and siamangs: the brachiators, the ones who fly without leaving the trees. Every dawn they sing the forest awake in duets — mated pairs, perfectly in sync, louder than anything with a right to be.
