Nimble fingers danced across the bone-white keys, washing the forest with synthetic sounds that stirred the inhabitants and garnered irritated stares. The Bull of the Woods, an impish creature, was the first to arrive, setting up shop in the forest park. His log, adorned with bone keys and bamboo mallets, was the first instrument among many that would populate that obscure corner of the woods.
As he played, more creatures began to stir. The forest was in its darkest hour, just before the sun would rise.
Yellow eyes gleamed in the alders as the morning dew settled on the fine branches, causing them to quiver beneath the weight. The forest began to warp, growing into something new. The spring fruits began to glow, the veins of the grasses gave of a neon sheen, and the fireflies danced with new intensity—all for the egg, nestled between the roots of an old oak.
The world paused as it moved, at first faintly, and then with vigorous shakes from side to side. She emerged from the cracks with shaking legs and wild eyes, a warrior born into the midst of an unknown battle.
The Bull dropped his mallets, trying to contain his excitement, trying to ignore the rumbling in his stomach. The forest watched with bated breath, waiting to see who would be the first to move. He felt his muscles tensing, preparing to launch him forward, but the rumbling in the ground gave him pause.
Above, hidden in the trees, were multiple creatures much larger than anything else in the forest. They swayed gently as their bodies compensated for their weight, their beady eyes peering through the canopy as if they were part of the forest themselves.
The newcomer watched the giants through blurry eyes. The giants of the forest, not seen for centuries, had emerged to watch her birth. She knew this by instinct alone, feeling the knowledge of her people flourish through the roots of the world, unperceivable yet present. Ignoring the rest of her audience, she charged forward, only after the giants. If she could reach them, her existence would be sensical.
From the railings of the lookout tower, their dance was visible. The giants through the trees, the youngling chasing them.
On the shore of the lake was where her legs gave out. A newcomer to this world, she was unequipped for long journeys. She collapsed in exhaustion as the surface of the lake stilled, stopping its rippling as the last of her kind vanished.
One day she would join them. Just not today.