Canada's Discovery: 1534

Why is it so cold? I can barely see…The only source of warmth was a small white creature in my arms.

The creature shifted, then twisted up in my arms to look at my face. He (I assumed it was a he) smiled at me, and I smiled back gently. "I'll call you Kumajirou," I said. My voice was obviously a little loud for his sensitive ears, so I repeated myself, this time in a whisper. "I'll call you Kumajirou."

I didn't bother keeping track of the time. There was no point; it was only me and Kumajirou. He taught me how to catch fish and keep warm by digging in the snow and building a small hut. In exchange, I taught myself how to make maple syrup so that every so often we could have a sugary treat. I got into the habit of whispering so softly I could barely hear myself, simply because Kumajirou's ears were so sensitive that he could hear me humming from half a mile away.

One day, I heard voices. It was the first time I had heard a human voice besides my own. Kumajirou was startled, which in turn made me a little bit frightened. I picked him up and together we snuggled close inside the snow hut. The voices became louder.

"I do not understand, Angleterre," one of the voices said. "You are ze one 'ooz wezzer is always miserable, so why are you complaining about ze cold?"

"It is never this cold in my country!" Another, higher-pitched voice shrieked. "And my weather is not miserable; it is simply temperamental."

"Mmhmm, sure," the first voice replied. Both voices became silent as their crunching footsteps came closer.

"What is this?" The higher-pitched voice asked.

The first voice mused, "It looks like a small 'ouse, small enough for a child."

I squeezed Kumajirou tighter and pulled away from the entrance to our snow hut, my heart racing.

A face appeared in the entrance. It was a handsome face, a tiny bit feminine, framed by long, soft-looking blond hair. The only thing that made me think it was a male was the strong chin with a light 5 o'clock shadow.

The man's eyes lit up and a smile creased his face. He pulled away from the entrance and said loudly, "Angleterre, it is a child!"

I flinched, having become used to my own quiet voice and the soft sounds of the barren iceland that was my home. Kumajirou also flinched, burying his small face in my chest.

Another face appeared in the entrance, this one much more frightening than the last. The most prominent features were his huge eyebrows, which his sandy blonde bangs did absolutely nothing to hide. He didn't smile when he caught sight of me, rather his huge brows drew together, giving his face a worried look. He drew away slowly, never taking his eyes off of me.

"What is that creature?" He asked the other man. I supposed that was what they thought was a whisper, but Kumajirou had trained me to be able to hear a fish jumping out of the water 50 feet away from the shore.

"It's probably a native animal," the one with the lengthy hair answered.

"It's a polar bear," I tried to tell them. "His name is Kumajirou."

They didn't hear me. I tried again, a little bit louder. Still, it seemed as though my voice was too soft for them to notice.

Gathering up my courage, I crawled toward the opening of the snow hut, clutching Kumajirou close to my heart. Both the men stared, obviously startled, when I emerged. I took a long look at the both of them, just in case I would ever need to recognize them.

The 5 o'clock shadow man was tall and lean and very good looking. His blond locks fell freely around a face that I instantly felt I could trust. He was wearing something that looked completely out of place against the white glare of the snow. It was bright blue and rather frilly as well. I shook my head at the fact that he wasn't wearing a heavy coat or a scarf or anything that would protect him from the freezing cold or the blistering wind.

The man with the eyebrows was much smaller than 5 o'clock shadow man. He was wearing an olive green uniform—military, my instincts told me—and he was glaring at Kumajirou the same way that a seal glares at a polar bear in the moments before it gets eaten. In a vain attempt to comfort him, I smiled and held out Kumajirou. With a shriek loud enough to wake the seals beneath the ice, he jumped backward and promptly fell on his bottom.

"Did you see that?!" He shrieked at the other man, who was doubled over with laughter. "He tried to attack me! This is not a laughing matter!"

I, too, was giggling softly, and even Kumajirou seemed to be smiling at the small man's panic. With a huff, the man picked himself up and began dusting snow off his uniform.

Still choking back laughter, I turned to the taller man and offered him Kumajirou. He reacted much better than the little one, reaching out and scooping Kuma up without hesitation, cradling him in his blue-clad arms.

"His name is Kumajirou," I tried to tell the man.

He looked at me for a second before saying gently, "Bien-aimée, you must speak louder. I cannot 'ear you."

I sighed, then repeated in a much louder voice, "His name is Kumajirou."

"Ah," he smiled. "Kumajirou, eh? You are adorable, aren't you?"

The man in the green stared at us for a second before sighing and picking a bag up off the ground. "You can have him, if you want, France," he sighed.

I cocked my head to the left, confused. The man gave Kumajirou back to me before turning to the other one. I hugged Kuma tight as they began to speak.

"Are you sure, Arthur?" the tall one—France—asked.

"Yes, I am sure Francis," the small one—Arthur—replied sharply. "It's much too cold up here for my liking and besides, I don't trust that animal."

I looked down at Kumajirou, trying to see why Arthur didn't like him. He seemed the same as always, with soft white fur and shining black eyes. He was cute, not scary.

"Oh, well," I murmured, squeezing Kuma lightly. Maybe it's a good thing, my mind whispered. This Arthur fellow doesn't seem very nice.

I looked up to see Arthur walking away slowly. Francis watched him go, melancholy painting his fine features.

After a few seconds, France seemed to shake whatever was bothering him away. He turned back to me with a smile. "'Ate to see zem go, love to watch zem walk away, oui?" I had no idea what he meant, so I simply nodded in ignorant agreement.

France smiled wider at my nodding, seemingly pleased with my answer. "You and I, little one, I believe are going to be very good friends." He picked me up easily and started carrying me in the same direction Arthur had walked a few moments before. I had no idea where we were going, nor any clue as to why we had to leave, but I trusted this man, France.