Early fall, 1939—Somewhere in Italy
Feliciano could feel the sunrise gliding up his eyelids. He rolled over, once, twice, fell out of bed and hit the floor (he probably should have expected that), and finally opened his eyes. It was a rather-warm-for-September Saturday's morning and the windows of his bedroom were open. He clambered to his feet from the pale, dull wood floor, and felt the air knotting around the back of his legs. Lovino would be awake by now.
He traipsed his way downstairs and to the kitchen, surprised that Grandpa, Lovino, and their neighbor Antonio were all conversing in harsh whispers at the table. Muttered "Invasion's" and "Hitler's" and "Flee's". This was not a good day; the fact lay around the room like the white coating on a sick man's tongue.
He only heard one word more before they notice him standing there: "War."
Early fall, 1939—Berlin
Ludwig awoke to a very loud albino man shouting in his ear.
"LUDWIG LUDWIG LUDWIG" he squawked, prodding at the younger's face and exiting the little yellow bird in the airy cage by the window. The air was tingly and cold, his bed soft and hot from his first full night's sleep in a long time. Ludwig groaned and sat up in bed, raising an eyebrow at his brother's (strangely, not smiling) face.
"Ludwig…." The man (Gilbert) began carefully, "Ludwig, we've just entered a war."
The Second World War was breaking just over the horizon.