Rooster named Svegila

Svegila believed the sun rose because he called it. He woke the fields, the travellers and even the two riders on his back before dawn, terrified that one late morning would end the world. Nobody told him they were tired; he looked too proud to disappoint.

Then his voice vanished. Svegila opened his beak, but the sky remained quiet and dark. He waited for disaster.

A small rooster beside him whispered, ‘Maybe the morning knows its own way.’ They sat together until light slowly reached the horizon without permission. Svegila’s voice returned at noon, softer than before. From then on he still greeted the day, but sometimes he let the sun wake him first.