Date Written: October 8, 2011
Word Count: 598
Summary: A three-part look at Thanksgiving between Canada and his provinces/territories, set in the same time-line as Rivalries. Focuses on Saskatchewan and Manitoba, the CFL will definately be brought up again, may include some Prussia/Canada and England/America.
Warnings: Possibly for language later in the story.
Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me.
The slim woman nudged the bay horse underneath her into a canter, an excited light illuminating her green eyes that held a hint of purple in their depths and sending her dark blonde hair swinging across her shoulders. The light from the rosy setting sun behind her caught the lighter highlights in her hair and set dark shadows into the sharp planes of her pale face.
Beside her, a younger man rode. He couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen and had darker skin than his female counterpart. His hair blended in with the sunset, being the same strawberry-blonde colour of the setting sun in the sky. His eyes were nearly the same shade as the woman beside him, but his eyes held more purple than green. The black horse he was riding tossed its head and sped up, cantering beside the bay neck-and-neck.
The woman laughed, shooting a wide smile across to the other rider, and letting her bright gaze roam across the golden green field the two were riding through. The man smiled back, but it was more forced and held less of the blinding happiness that she exhibited. The bay horse whished its tail, flicking back its soft ears as the woman lightly pulled back on the reins. She brought her hands farther back and the horse slowed back down to a trot. The man let his own horse keep running; skillfully avoiding the small holes that occasionally dotted the field with subtle twitches of his hands.
"Hey Sask!" The woman called out after him, effectively stopping her horse. "We have to go back! Otherwise we'll be late…again." She continued, taking her hands away from the reins and cupping them on either side of her mouth to increase the volume of her already-loud voice.
The man gently turned the black horse back around, sending it galloping towards where the woman and her horse had stopped to wait. He stopped his horse beside the bay, narrowing his eyes at the figure astride it. "We still have time, we don't have to go back just yet." He insisted, eyes flickering towards the sun nearly hidden over the horizon.
"Mattie said to be back by sunset. In case you haven't noticed, that is the sun and it is setting." The woman pointed out, directing a finger at the steadily disappearing sun as she did so. The bay horse stamped one hoof with impatience and tossed its head, as if agreeing with its dainty rider.
The man shrugged. "It's my house you all are staying in." He stated lazily as the sky around the two slowly darkened to a hazy blue-grey.
"Yes, but we have to leave for my house in a few hours. That's why Mattie wants us back, so you can lock up the house and so I can pack." The woman reiterated, already turning her horse towards the small white house in the distance. The man sighed, but followed suit; the pair riding back and an easy trot and putting both horses away in the red barn a few feet from the house.
A few hours later – after supper, avoiding some minor disasters, packing, some more yelling, and an airplane flight that felt much too long to be considered normal – three figures arrived at a neat red-brick house.
The rest of the night passed as usual, the woman directing the two men towards where they would be staying and then going to sleep herself.