England's Attic Cleaning
Chapter 1: Hunting
Spring had arrived in London. It was sunny and a bit breezy, a perfect day to go out doors or just get some house work done. England spent his morning drinking his tea and reading the newspaper, just to see what was new these days. It was a quiet morning, no America over, no France popping in, no crazy brothers sending cursed packages, nothing but the sweet sounds of bird chirping; it was nice.
He had nothing to do though, most of his work was done already. He finished drinking his morning tea and washed out the cup. Then put it away back into the cabinet. He turned to leave but then stopped and looked back, he saw some chipped old china cups he hadn't used in ages. He picked one up, these things were made in the 1600's, centuries ago; there was no use of them being in the kitchen anymore, they were artifacts. This gave England a bit of an idea; it was a good idea, to clean out his storage room, his attic.
He went up into his attic and looked around for an empty cardboard box. Once he found one, he went back down into the kitchen and started to gently put the antiques into the box, covering it with bubble wrap. Once he finished putting them in, he lifted the box up and started for the attic again.
He couldn't remember the last time he had actually went in there, it was always covered in dust so he really never wanted to go up, it held too many memories too, almost all the memories he had forgotten or wanted to forget. Centuries of objects and memories in there, just sitting there collecting dust. Maybe it was a good idea to clean it out, that way he wouldn't be so resistant to go in for years. He climbed back into the attic and gently placed the box on the wooden ground, dust puffed up from under it and made him cough a bit.
"Alright," He said to himself. "What to get rid of…" He looked around a bit, searching for anything. Boxes of stuff scattered everywhere, books piled in corners, old guns, old and dirty uniforms, glassware, china, maps, things that were completely outdated and forgotten. He sighed, this would be a long day, but he would get through it, no matter what he came across. He carefully walked in more, watching his step so he wouldn't step on anything precious. Sadly, that didn't work. As he walked in, he felt himself step on something and heard a cracking sound. The second he heard it, he jumped back and looked down to see what he had broke now.
He remembered this weapon, how Scotland would teach him how to use it so early in the morning. When Scotland and Ireland went out to hunt, Wales would take over. Every afternoon until night settled in Wales would take him out to practice, simply aiming at trees until he learned how to hunt. Him and Wales could daily craft them out of the surroundings, wood, stones and rocks, and finally some string from their home. He couldn't believe he just broke it, the wooden bow him and his brothers had made, though he was missing the bundle of arrows that went with it. He slowly bent down and picked up the bow, only having it fall into two pieces, his heart sunk. He didn't mean to step on it, he didn't even want to throw the bow out, it felt necessary for him to keep it; now it was broken though. He picked the other piece that had fallen and tried holding them back together, maybe he could glue or tape it or something, he didn't want to throw it out; it held too many memories…
Early 7th Century….
"Concentrate," Wales directed. Little England steadily held onto his bow, pulling the string and arrow back, watching his target, a small hare eating grasses. The two young nations laid belly flat in the bushes, waiting for the right shot. England, with a lot of help from his big brother Wales, had finally made a steady bow; a sturdy stick, the twine they had was tightly tied on at both ends. His arrows hand made with Wales' help; long sturdy sticks with stones that had been melted down to make the shape of arrows, and feathers on the back to give it some air.
England took a deep breath, he lifted himself up a bit and took good aim. Wales watched as England decided it was the right time, he believed he had perfect aim and that the hare was still. He concentrated and finally let go of the arrow, he shot it forward at the hare, only to realize his aim was off. The arrow ended up shooting into the tree, a few inches above the hare. The small hare quickly noticed the attack and got away as fast as he could. England gritted his teeth, jumped up, and started to go after the hare until Wales grabbed him by his cape. "W-Wales! Let me go!" He tried to get out of the nation's grip. Wales only smirked a bit.
"What are you going to do? Chase it?"
"Yes! I'll chase it and catch it with my bare hands if I have to!" England still struggled to get out of Wale's grasp. "Let me go!"
Wales sighed. "I won't until you stop trying to chase a rabbit, understand?" England stopped trying and just let Wales hang onto him. "Good boy."
"I am not an animal." England glared. Wales smirked a bit and let him go.
"You want to know why you missed your shot?" Wales asked. England crossed his little arms and looked at him.
"Sure, since you seem to know everything." England looked at him. Wales bent down and put a hand on the little one's shoulder.
"You over-thought it." Wales said. "You need to relax more and stop worrying about other things. You didn't concentrate, you paid attention to the prey but you paid more attention to surroundings."
"Scotland told me too!"
"When you're hunting alone." Wales said. "I'm here so all you needed to do was concentrate. We didn't work on the bow just so you couldn't concentrate."
"Well if someone just explained that…" England mumbled. Wales let go of England's shoulder and went over to the tree, yanking the arrow out of it.
"We'll keep going if you want, I don't mind staying out here with you."
England smiled a bit. "J-Just a little longer. I'll get it the next time!"
"Sure you will," Wales pet the little nation's head a bit, though England quickly got away and stuck his tongue at Wales. "We'll keep going til you get it right, come on." He gave England the arrow back and started walking to find new hunt. England started to follow, he accidentally tripped over a branch and fell though, having Wales pick the boy back up. The two walked through the empty forest, looking for new game to find, only something small could be game with such arrows though, England was too small to shoot at high force to get any big animal. After a while of looking, they found another hare. Once again, after so much concentration, England missed and the rabbit got away. He gave a look towards Wales, who just shrugged back, and got his arrow back. They looked again, found another small animal, and once again missed. Luck wasn't on his side, he missed another six times after that, getting angrier and angrier each time he missed; he was ready to just throw the bow away and ditch it.
Wales wouldn't let the little one give up though. He took his little brother and kept looking around for more game, giving it one more chance before the day ended. They found game, a squirrel that was still while eating it's nuts. Wales got down in the brush again, England following with his bow, belly down again. "Concentrate only on the target this time." Wales whispered. England gave a nod and started getting his arrow into place. He put it into position and pulled the string back.
He concentrated like Wales said. He took a deep breath and carefully aimed it at the squirrel. Wales watched as the little nation had complete concentration this time. England pulled the string back a little more and actually closed his eyes before shooting the arrow. Wales smiled though and nudged the little one. "Good job." He said. England slowly opened on eye to see where it landed, then opened both to see that he finally hit his target, for the first time he had shot an arrow and hit his target!
"I did it!" England jumped up and threw his fist in the air. "Did you see that! ? I did it!" The little nation laughed excitedly.
"Yes, I did see it." Wales pet the boy's head. "Just wait until we tell Scotland huh?" England smiled proudly, now he knew he could do it, and his skill could only get better from there. Wales grabbed the hunt for dinner as England swung his bow over his shoulder. The two walked away into the woods to tell their other two brothers about England's first successful shot.