Within the epoch of an age of gods long ago, a forest god walked his demesne, listening to his domain around him.  The swish as trees swayed in the wind, the dancing of the grass and leaves under foot, the beautiful, chaotic sound of life’s growth, death and regrowth.  Small creatures burrowed through the ground, larger ones ran fleet footed from cover to cover, and still others of all sizes chased the ones running.  The forest god watched, unemotive, his hooded head motionless, antlers reaching toward the trees, as life started, died and continued around him.

But something was missing.  It was quiet for all of the sounds of life in the forest.  The panting of beasts, the foraging of creatures, the scuttling of vermin, it was sound, but despite its own beauty it held nothing for itself.  The god thought and thought for days, considering the ancient growth.  Individual animals came and went, passing generations while he thought.  At last, he realized, there was missing that which would call toward the skies and earth, that would flow from branch to branch, that would cover the trees with its homes and music. 

The god began to move then, pulling leaves from each tree, tufts of fur from creatures both newborn and elderly, the aggressive zeal of beasts, and the wings of vermin.  He began his work then, fashioning a creature as had never been seen before.  After ten days and nights, he finished his work.  Taking the creature in his hands, he breathed softly into the face of the creature.  Although he was no expert in creation, his nature flowed over the creature’s features, making the thing shudder and demanding its first breath. 

It stood in his hands, its figure many more times larger than the average hare, but many times smaller than the average beast.  The leaves that he had taken fashioned into rainbow fringed plumes covering its body, the tufts of fur he fashioned into a warm covering on its chest leading down toward its talons.  The personality of it was imbued with the zeal of beasts, but with the love of life and sky.  Its plumes were long and broad, its tail a collection of longer plumes.

The creature took its twentieth breath, opened its beak and cried out.  The cry was sweet and beautiful, a trill that rang through the forest air.  The forest itself and all of its denizens stopped , mesmerized by the music.  The god, satisfied, preened the creature with one impossibly long, gnarled finger, and whispered its name to it: Kokkorran.  

The Kokkorran shook itself, settled and tested its wings.  Lifting his arm up, the forest god waited until the Kokkorran took flight, its broad, beautiful wings shining in the sun rays breaking down through the canopy.  He watched as it flew and threaded its way deftly through the forest canopy as if it had always known how to do so.  He continued to watch as it broke through into the sky well above the dark forest, its music ringing into the world.

The god then walked his demesne once again, revelling in the music of life.