Answer:
It is a sound of empty, speak and it'll talk back plenty. But all the more you yack, you'll get the same words back.
When the horse strokes the cat, the wood begins to sing.
I am what remains when nothing is left.What am I?
Something wholly unreal, yet seems real to I. Think my friend, tell me where does it lie?
What has a big mouth, yet never speaks?
People take me on walks and I run and have fun. What am I?