Title: The dark trees
Rating:PG
Pairing/Characters: America/England
Word Count: 537
Summary: The old woods die and Arthur takes a walk through one forest contemplating them.
Disclaimer: Nothing in here belongs to me, get it? It belongs to himaruya. That's the guy's name, right?
There weren't many deep and truly magical forests left and he feared the day they would completely vanish.
These woods, so rich with magic and myths and creatures of fantasy, had been a part of England for so long that he couldn't imagine life without them. But if pollution and the careless actions of humanity got worse – or even remained the same; it would just be a little slower – he would face the extinction of magical forests on his land.
Sighing he looked around, torn internally with worry and anger.
England knew who he would blame and he didn't like it but humans had such a short sight and wouldn't realize their disastrous mistakes with their horrible consequences until it was too late.
He had taken a vacation – he really was rather high-strung from dealing with Alba and France and Alfred all the time – and traveled to one of his favorite woods. It wasn't the one he had grown up in – no ,he thought, that one had been demolished long ago which always awoke some form of nostalgia when he remembered this – but it was nice and deep and the trees were big and just as old and full of life.
Arthur wandered through it slowly and without hurry and listened to its sounds. He heard the singing birds enjoying their life and sharing their joy through their songs. He heard the hushing sounds of predators and preys as they hunted and hid and ran. Dimly he was also aware of the giggling tree spirits and the dancing fairies in the wind.
He kept on wandering and still listened to the sounds of nature, of himself, until he came upon a small meadow.
Arthur simply breathed in the scene that was before his eyes. In the tiny meadow there were two hares playing with each other though it seemed to be more courting and seducing and circling each other than playing.
They were lost deeply in their intimate love game and he hadn't the heart to interrupt them even though he really desired to lay down in the isle of greenish light inside of the dark forest. Instead he leaned against the bark of a tree, closed his eyes and just felt.
It was moist – of course, the never-ending rain – and the connection between Arthur and the tree pulsed. For him it was like he could make out a heartbeat that was steady and firm, a beacon of constancy in the wild sea of uncertainty.
England loved his connection with nature, he really did but forests and rabbits reminded him of his mostly turbulent childhood in the Old World and a child reaching out for him in a glade in the New World.
That child was grown up now. It didn't need him anymore, like a bird it flew away despite Arthur's attempts at containing it. Perhaps he should have let it fly on its own back then.
He opened his eyes, smiled with memories of cornflower blue and stood up to return to civilization, to the man waiting for him with shining cornflowers.
It's like they say: Let it go, if it is yours it will come back.
