The songs of the birds were the first thing it could recognize.

The singing birds, fluttering here and there, the feathers on their wings flashing in dozens of different colors.

That was the first thing it saw.

It was standing on the grass in a small clearing surrounded by forest, staring at the clear blue sky, its sight only interrupted by white clouds and the flying birds.

It was peaceful. Beautiful.

Somehow, in a corner of its now awaken mind, it knew what these things were, though it did not know how.

It was like it had been in a long dream, with all these things always there, but only now could it truly think about them.

It contemplated its new self for some time.

There wasn't any reason in particular to move itself, nor did it have any impulse to explore the world and find its place in it.

It was already in its place. The world may be big, but what it had now was enough for it.

It was comfortable. Nice. Maybe it should go back to sleep? But it would be a shame to go to sleep before it could gaze upon the sunset.

It had foggy, vague memories, but it could remember how every so often, at the end of a day, the sun gets down on the horizon, painting the world in many shades of orange and red.

That, for now, was its only true desire and aspiration. To gaze upon a sunset and marvel at it, truly appreciating it for the first time.

Time passed. The breeze rustled the surrounding trees, the brilliant grass moved like the waves of the sea and the birds continued their dance, with the sounds of the creatures of the forest as their music.

The clouds moved and changed shape as it remained looking at the sky. Did the clouds have residents and songs like that of the forest? How would it be to gaze upon it from such a high place?

Musings like these filled its mind as it waited for sunset to come. Only then would it resume its sleep. It was such a small, innocent wish.

And then, through the wall of trees emerged a tiny creature.

It was bigger than the surrounding insects, but smaller than the biggest birds. It did not have plumage nor carapace, its skin laid bare, a pair of dainty legs and arms fluttering around, as if to keep its balance as it flied with great speed into the clearing.

But the most characteristic thing were the beautiful insectile wings that moved with great speed on its back. Were they like that of a butterfly? If so, was this some kind of butterfly it had not seen before?

As it pondered these things, the tiny not-butterfly quickly inspected its surroundings, as if looking for something. Apparently having found what it was looking for, its face beamed with joy as it flied directly to its destination.

That destination being our observer. Or, more precisely, one of the holes and crevices it had on what could be considered its body.

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As the little maybe-butterfly went inside one such place, our spectator couldn't help but recall its previous inhabitants.

Previously, a couple of seasons ago, a family of birds with the habit of poking holes in trees had been living in it. Indeed, they had been there for a long time, and even while it was asleep it recalled a feeling of annoyance; but they were now gone, and its many holes and crevices were now empty, save for the occasional bug.

As it remembered that, it felt lonely and empty. It missed those birds. So the sight of the small weird butterfly hiding in it, as if waiting for something, made it feel both nostalgic and happy.

Not long after, three more such creatures appeared from the tree line. The colors and patterns on their wings varied greatly, while the differences on their hair and skin were more subtle.

They seemed to be searching for something, too, making sounds between each other, and perhaps calling out to something else.

As they did so, it turned its attention towards the first comer, who was now hiding deeper in, its shape shaking with mirth.

It ought to differentiate them, so as to not confuse them, it thought.

The one inside it had wings with black patterns and borders, an orange color marking most of the wing's insides.

She was thus named orange.

The three newcomers decided to split up.

One flew laps around the clearing, most likely searching for something in the grass or the plants therein. Its wings had the color of the berries that grew every other autumn, a deep violet with scarce green patterns.

Berry it was, then.

Another decided to go back into the forest, searching plant by plant. Its wings were as blue as the sky, with splashes of a bright yellow like that of the setting sun.

Sunshine seemed like a good name

The last one went over to our observer who, as you probably already surmised, is a tree.

This one seemed slightly bigger than the other ones. It flew back and forth on its branches, almost like it would inspect every leaf, but then, something happened.

Orange sneezed.

It was such a small sound. The tree probably wouldn't have noticed were it not because it happened inside its trunk, but at that precise moment, the one on top seemingly froze mid-air.

Orange turned visibly nervous from its hiding spot, from where it was watching its peers. Its wings moved so fast the tree was almost expecting them to start buzzing like a scarab, and then Orange rushed outside, perhaps seeking another hiding spot or trying to escape.

The one on the tree's leaves turned sharply in its direction, its yellow wings briefly shinning like the sun itself, and with a beat, it was gone.

The tree was bewildered. What had happened? But soon enough, the answer came to it.

The yellow winged, slightly bigger one was holding on the grass a struggling Orange. Shortly after, they both started rolling on the ground, a wriggling mass that produced strange noises.

It didn't last long until Orange lay defeated on the ground, its limbs sprayed around it.

A couple moments later, both of them started laughing. It didn't take long for Berry and Sunset to arrive and join in.

In the end, the bigger one gathered them all in an embrace.

It was a happy scene.

It was then that the tree realized that it had not yet named to yellow winged one.

It was bright, cheerful, and joy almost seemed to accompany it. There was also that glowy trick it could do.

It found itself at a loss. What could be a good name? It was not as easy as the others.

But then, it remembered. What attracted all manner of creatures in the forest, brought joy, had a similar color and shone with the sun?

Syrup.

As Syrup, Orange, Berry and Sunset calmed down, they looked upon the tree that loomed over them and which was the center of the clearing.

If the tree could breath, maybe it would've holded its breath. It felt like something rare and marvelous was happening.

By this time the sun was coming down, and it colored the forest with its last, warm light for the day.

Slowly, they all flew towards it, their gazes curious, and Orange took the chance to guide them into the hole where it had hidden.

Soon enough, they all began exploring its every nook and cranny, a couple more games being played on its branches and leaves.

By the time it was nightfall, they decided to spent the night in it.

And the next one. And the next after that.

The tree did not feel lonely any more, and in fact, it found a joy it did not remember having before with its new inhabitants.

It no longer wanted to go back to sleep.

In a corner of its mind, it thought: I want to be awake, so that I can cherish these times and my new friends, for as long as that may be.

And after that, well; it would surely have some good dreams after enjoying these days.