I find it hard to look up, the mountains are caging and I despise feeling trapped.

I look at the ground instead and it's stifled by cascades of time. The forest floor is saturated in leaves that bubble around dying secrets. They all seem content with their one uniform color of moist composting brown. A few months ago they were most likely drenched in the overwhelming reds and yellows of autumn, but now there musical crunching and snapping has been forced away by the sluggish melting snow. Then there's the dirt and the mountains, you know they've seen it all before.

Sverige doesn't seem to mind, the scenery doesn't trap him like it does me and I've never seen him look so lively. Really the whole situation is unjust, I'm older and taller, bigger too. I mean I'm five and he's only three! I should be the courageous one, not him, but the threat of bears and wildcats keeps me at bay. Of course there's always the possibility that Sverige isn't brave, he's just too young to know to be scared.

"Ah, ha! ba, ba, ba. brrrr, ba!" then there's an echoing thump and "waaaaaaah, waaaaaaaahhh."

My feet splash across the the frozen dirt and melting snow, steering me across the frosty landscape. I know that sound! I can still remember Sverige making those petite gurgling noises when he was a baby, he still does sometimes, it's like he wants to show of that he's the younger one.

Wait, Sverige! where did he go?

"Sve? Sve?" I really don't have the time for this. I'm sure that baby I heard was a new nation, you can always feel them, they tug away your emotions and fill the empty space with their own, you have to teach them not to do that.I need to find that baby but… "Sve, if you can hear me stay where you are!" There, now I can keep going.

Befor I realize it I'm running again. The cries have turned into a ferocious squalling and I just want it to stop. I end up stopping first though and it's all too loud. I'm spinning in whirlpools trying to find the source of it all until it's right there in front of me.

There, nestled in between tree roots is that tiny screaming child. It's face is all red and blotchy and it's chubby little cheeks are drawn up in frustrated creases that hold its eyes shut.

It's a cute baby boy and all I can think to do is wrap him in my cloak and rock him. I start rocking backwards and forwards and my capsizing feet churn the mud beneath them like it's butter. Eventually he stops crying and his sniffles turn into soft little cooing sounds.

Now that he's quiet I need to ask a question. "Do you have a name?" I asked Sve that question too, but I never got an answer. I'm hoping for it to be different this time. I never liked giving people names, that seems like something a nation should pick for themselves.

But unfortunately this one doesn't seem all that interested in replying either. Instead he squawks at me like a laughing hen. I'm annoyed now, I really wanted an answer, but he still needs a name. "Well I'll call you Norge then. Is that okay?"

"Ba!" Then he squeals and claps his hands in the air; it's completely adorable. This one's staying, I don't care what Sve thinks.

"Norge it is, then! Oh, and my name is Danmark if you were wondering."

I stand there a minute taking in this lovely little boy I've managed to pick up. My thoughts are clouded up with happiness at having a new friend, and it takes me a second to remember that Sverige is still out there. But now I have, and it's time to go back through the trees and slushy snow melt of early spring.

AN: Norway hit his head on the tree as a baby, that's why he can see fairies :D I don't usually use this point of view so please tell me what you think. i don't own Hetalia