…And so, for a while, the Time Being was satisfied. But even change can become stagnant, and it desired something more than the endless flies and compost. And so the Time Being breathed life into one of the bodies, a possum. It sprang to life, but recoiled under the heavy sun. Quickly, it scurried to the shade of a nearby tree to think. Soon, an idea formed.
“Oh, flies!” it called out, “Come here and help me!”
Feeling the pull of its will, the flies obeyed, an amorphous congregation in the wind.

“Listen,” said the possum, “I have a job for you.” And it explained its plan. The flies hummed accordingly and set off, homing in on their target. The sky began to grow dimmer, the buzzing mass growing more distant, until eventually all was darkness, the sun blocked out entirely. There was a hmph of annoyance, a shift, and the sun shone once more, but the flies followed close behind. This continued for many a wing-flap until finally, the sun gave up on her written duty and retreated below the horizon. The possum emerged into the cool darkness, pleased with its work. And so the first night dawned.

– Excerpt from a retelling of how the world began, recorded by Talli Zola (1985)

The Second Time-Maker gifted a rhythm to the world, setting the sun turning (and in some tellings, the seasons too). As with the Time Fly, some believe that the possum still roams at night, making sure the sun obeys. Possums also occupy a place of honour for followers of the Time Being and feature on many holy symbols and banners. A fringe set of followers believe that the flies' subservience to the possum means the Time Fly was not a true Time-Maker, though this opinion is considered heresy by the majority. To worship the Second Time-Maker, followers will leave out a bowl of water for the possum, especially on warm summer nights. Those who sleep past their waking time are said to have 'not watered the possum', the sun failing to awaken them being the possum's revenge.