My time was coming. The baby would come soon, I could feel it. I made my way to the place I had prepared for the birthing, walking slowly, cradling my bulging stomach. Every time I had a child, I always, always returned to the same spot. It was in the shadows of a mighty oak tree, so old I couldn't remember a time when it wasn't there. The ground below is soft and springy, and a little brook can be heard nearby. The exposed roots of the tree form a perfect cradle for the new child, and a good resting place for any tired person.

I gently knelt down. My people hardly ever laid down when birthing. I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I wasn't scared. I had birthed dozens of children before. Not scared, no, but more like anxious. The pregnancy had weighed heavily on me, more difficult than any other I've experienced. Would the child be born right?

Mother comforted me, though. I could hear her voice in the rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds. She held my hands through the soft moss, and kissed my face with the breeze. We could never really see the Mother, but we know she is always there, in the flowers and the face of the moon. She is the sun, but she is also the stars at night. She was the hunting wolf and the fleeing deer, life and death, joy and sorrow, creation and destruction. She is the balance between things, she is nature in whole. And Mother loves her children very, very much, just as we all love her.

I breathed in, looking up. The sky was red and orange with dawn, and the greens leaves gave a beautiful contrast against the fiery sky. The world was peaceful and still, as if waiting to welcome the new baby. Releasing my pent-up breath, I closed my eyes, and prepared.

A newborn's cry broke the silence. I reopened my eyes.

The shadows had changed. They were on the opposite side of things, and were much longer. It was dusk, the moment where the sun dies over the horizon and is reborn in the morning. What does that mean?

I shook my head. It was foolish. I hadn't even seen my child yet, and was already making wild predictions that wouldn't come true. Carefully, I pushed myself up. Mother's messengers had already cut the umbilical cord, and I could see their eyes flashing at the outskirts of the light. Most likely wolves. I could see the silver flash of their teeth and hear their soft growls. They may seem menacing to some, but I wasn't worried. I myself had lived with a pack of wolves for some time, and they remained my closest friends throughout the years. I knew they would never harm the baby. My time with them showed me what true family love is like, and with each of my children I try to give them the same love my mother wolf gave to me. A wolf mother would do anything for the protection of her pups, even if she puts her own life at risk. I teach my children never to fear the wolves, that they are our brothers, that they teach us many things, to never fail to show them respect.

I stood up and stretched my tired muscles. The inside of my legs were coated in blood, but I would wash them later. Now, I only wanted to see my little baby. I had waited long enough, throughout the longs months he stayed inside me. Dropping down onto my hands and knees, I saw my child for the first time.

...I was confused. He was too bulky, oddly disformed. There was too many limbs, and the head was huge. Things jutted out from awkward angles, and the parts of him didn't move in synch. Was their something wrong with it? Never, in all my longs years, had I seen something like this. I was afraid. What would I do with this child?

No. Not my child, as in singular. My children. With a soft gurgle, they separated themselves, almost reluctantly. Two healthy boys, twins, so alike it was like one was the reflection off a pond, wrapped around each other like cats. One began to wail loudly, and thrashed about like a fish out of water, little hands already in fists. He kicked his feet and punched the air, like the world had suddenly made him angry. I was afraid he would hurt his twin, but my fears were for nothing. The other one withstood all the accidental blows from his brother, and didn't make a sound. He just stared at the world around him, taking it all in. At the trees, at the wolves in the shadows, the darkening sky, and finally, his mother. Once he saw me, his eyes lit up and he reached for me, palms outstretched.

But I didn't pick him up. It's terrible, but I was afraid to touch him. They didn't look like my children. Their skin was a snowy white, a shade I had never seen on any man, woman, or infant. Their eyes were a faultless blue, blue like the sky, blue like the ocean, a familiar colour but foreign on a human. And the tiny fuzz on the tops of their heads was not a dark brown, but a golden blonde. If I hadn't just birthed them, I would've said they weren't mine.

But they were mine. And no matter how strange they looked, they were my children, and they needed their mother. I took the thrashing baby into my arms first. He immediately stopped moving, and snuggled against me peacefully. I laughed quietly. "Is that all you wanted, little baby? A little attention?" He didn't answer, and I didn't expect him to. His twin though, on the ground, perked his ears in response to my voice. I shifted the little-thrasher in my arms so I could pick up his twin up. "Little babies..." I cooed. My voice was hoarse, but that was only natural.

The quieter brother reached up and caressed my face with his tiny hand, and almost laughed. At that moment, all of my doubts went away. He was for sure my baby, mine."Matoskah." White Bear. The name seemed to fit. His skin was so pale it looked white, and he had the odd qualities of a bear. Matoskah seemed happy enough with it, so Matoskah it was. My little bear cub.

I turned my attention to the other, the little-thrasher. He was the larger of the two, though not by much. There was something almost solemn in his expression. He looked like someone who would fight, just like he did the moment he was born. I knew the perfect name for him. "Akecheta." Fighter. Something told me he would have to fight. Fight to earn the respect because of his looks. Fight to protect his little brother. And who knows what else might come in his future?

The two began to suckle. Gradually, the wolves left us, and the birds quieted down as the forest went to sleep. We still sat there together, us three, the mother and her sons, in the darkening rays of the dying sun. I sang to my babies, the same song I have sung to all my previous children, a song passed down through generations, a song so old I remember Mother singing it to me when I was young an alone.

I love you, my baby,

Sleep now, for me,

Goodnight, sweet baby

Fly away with your dreams

Let sleep take you,

Take you from the fears,

Shelter you from the night,

Wipe away your tears

Night has fallen softly here,

The stars twinkle bright above,

But morning light is soon near,

So do not fear, my precious love

Akecheta and Matoskah went to sleep, but I stayed awake. I couldn't ignore the little nagging thoughts at the back of my mind, about how this could be a terrible terrible omen of things to come. I tried not to take it for a sign, but nagging thoughts at the back of my mind remained: This birth would mean my fall.

I lifted my head to the stars. "Mother, please help me."


Before Matoskah and Akecheta were born, I used to spend weeks, months, even years alone, wandering the land, never sleeping in the same place twice, without another living human to talk to. I would cook my meals I caught myself on a solitary fire, and eat in silence. I would go to bed at night alone, and wake up without a single person there. Sometimes I was so lonesome, I would stare at myself in any body of water just to look at a human's face, or speak with the echoes that answered me back. The only breaks between those lonely periods was if I even had another child, which hadn't happened for a very long time, or if I met one of my people. I would occasionally come across of of the clans or tribes of my previous children, and there would be a huge celebration in my honour. For a short time, I would laugh and dance and be with my people, and spend peaceful nights just listening to their breathing around me. I would be merry, my heart would be light, but eventually I would have to leave, and continue on my lonesome with only Mother by my side.

The land was so vast, and the people so scattered, I rarely saw the same face twice. They all grew old and died, as everything does, while I carried on. Me and me direct children have lived for many, many years, too many to count, old souls trapped in a eternal body. I, of course, was the oldest, me being the mother. My memory goes back to when the woolly mammoths thundered across the land, and the world was made up of eternal snow and ice. My first children learned to survive in that world, as Mother and myself taught them to. As more years passed, the more and more children I had, the more and more the land became populated, the more and more the world thawed and became green. Soon, there were thriving villages dotted all across the continent. All of my sons and daughters decided to stay with their own clans, and I respected their wishes, even if it left me alone.

The birth of my new sons sparked a new life in me. Every glance at them filled my heart with joy. Sometimes, I was content just to lay on the ground for hours, watching them sleep. Soon enough, the grew up, and they grew fast. They would wander aimlessly about on their knees, faces shining with glee whenever they would find something new. No matter how far they went, I was never worried that they would harm themselves. If they were like me or their brothers and sisters, they couldn't be harmed as easily as normal humans. No matter what they did, the boys did it together. They were absolutely inseparable, since the moment they were born. Although Matoskah was a bit more timid than his older brother, they still got along fine, even if Akecheta bullied him a little.

Never in my lifetime had I ever seen such a bond between brothers. I only hoped their relationship wouldn't change as they grew up, like some of my children before them. Now they were grown up, some would fight, others would make peace. And I would let them do it. They were all grown, and they had to make decisions for themselves. It still pained my though, whenever I came across a bloody battlefield or a burnt village. Why must my children fight one another?

The landscape may have changed, and maybe we did a bit too, but deep down, we were the same as we were centuries ago. We were just happy the ways things were, and wouldn't change the ways things were, and nothing would ever, ever change that.

Until the white men came.


So, how's that for the first chapter? This my first story on FanFiction, and I have little or no idea what the heck I'm doing, so sorry if it isn't the greatest. Just bear with me, okay?

I thought, instead of making Gaho the representation of just ONE Native North American tribe, why not make her almost like the spirit of Native North Americans? Why not make her children the native tribes? So, I did that, but I'm not quite sure how it working out. Good, I hope!

Just a quick disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia (though I wish I did)! I do not own any of the characters, except for some OCs.

Thus in no way is meant to be offensive to anyone or taken as such, so if there is something in here that offends someone, please let me know. I understand that there may be somstereotypes and inaccurate facts, but I'll do my best to avoid those. Please please correct me if I do anything that you find offensive!

Also, keep in mind that some of the historical facts may not be completely accurate (trust me when I saw that I did do research on the subjects). But remember: This is only fiction. I did not mean for it to be exactly 100% true-to-life.

And lastly, if anyone has any critics, thing I should've done, change, add, ideas, whatever, please, tell me! I love to hear what other people have to say on my stories, and see what I can do to make them better!