When Francis arrived from across the channel, it had been raining, but now the water droplets remained on the soggy ground, glistening in the sun. He wandered through the unfamiliar forest, looking up at the trees that shined in the sunlight as he hummed to himself, happy that he had decided to come and explore.

The forest broke and revealed a bright meadow. In the distance, Francis could see more trees that were filled with bright, green leaves. The young nation smiled, he loved everything beautiful, and this forest was just that. He couldn't imagine how it could get any better than this.

The spring wind blew his long hair back as he skipped across the clearing, without a care in the world. He was almost to the trees on the other side when he heard a small voice.

"Don't step on me!"

Francis stopped in his tracks and looked down. At his feet, was a small boy, who must have been no older than five. The boy lied on his stomach with a green cloak covering him, and scowled at the young French nation with leafy green eyes as his unruly, golden locks blew back in the wind.

"Oh, my, I didn't see you there, little one." Francis replied in a friendly tone.

The boy's thick eyebrows drew together, "I am not little!" He declared.

Francis smiled, the boy was just too cute, "Of course, I'm sorry."

The little boy huffed in reply, and when he didn't say anything else, Francis tried again to be nice, "What is your name?"

"England." He said, plucking damp grass from the dirt, "But people usually call me 'Arthur'."

Francis tilted his head, "You're a country?" It had never crossed his mind that this little boy might have been a nation.

Arthur nodded, "Well, that's what Scotland tells me."

"Oh, well, I'm Francis, the country of France." He said, beaming another smile.

"Your name sounds like you country's name." Arthur observed.

Francis sighed, he actually got this more often than not, "Oui, I know."

There was a long silence, nothing but the grass brushing in the wind making sound. Francis looked to his surroundings and found no one else in sight. His eyes fell back to the younger nation, "Why are you alone? A little boy like you shouldn't be alone."

Arthur sat up in the grass and glared at him, "I am not little! And I wasn't alone! Not until you decided to be stupid!"

"Stupid?" The French nation echoed, "How am I stupid?"

Arthur scoffed, "I was having a good talk with Whiskers and Pixie, then you scared them away!"

Francis suddenly felt guilty, "I'm sorry! Maybe I can help you look for them?"

The toddler stood up, "Pixie can take care of herself. It's Whiskers I worry about, she is only a bunny, and she gets chased by other animals a lot."

"But maybe I-"

Arthur began to walk off, "And I don't need your help! I know where her hole is, she's probably there."

Despite what the English nation said, Francis followed. The little boy trotted through the trees, glancing back now and then, seemingly not minding that Francis was just a few steps behind him. The trees were a bit thicker in this part of the forest, so there were more shadows. This made Francis a little weary, but since Arthur seemed so casual, Francis forced himself to relax.

Eventually, Arthur slowed down and walked up to a tree. He knelt down at the trunk's base and leaned over a small hole, "Whiskers? It's okay, you can come out!" When nothing happened, Arthur reached down into the rabbit hole with is right hand.

Francis sat down by the tree next to Arthur, "She doesn't have to come out if she doesn't want to."

But, just as Francis was finishing his sentence, Arthur pulled the scared rabbit out by the scruff. He turned around, sat against the tree, put the bunny in his lap and began to stroke her, "It's okay, Whiskers, Francis is nice. He won't be mean to you, not like Ireland was."

Whiskers relaxed in the boy's lap at the soothing tone, and both of them seemed content. Francis fidgeted, not really liking the cold, wet grass on his rear, "Can I pet her?" When Arthur nodded, Francis reached out and ran his fingers through the creature's fur, "She's so soft!" He commented.

Arthur smiled, reached into a small pocket, and took out a handful of scrapped vegetables. He took half of what he had and held it out to Francis, "Here."

"What is this for?" Francis asked, taking the food.

"To feed her." The English nation answered and he held out his hand in front of the bunny, who began eating quickly, "See? You just do this, and she nibbles it all up!"

After Whiskers was finished, Francis held out his vegetables. The creature sniffed the French nation's hand before she began to eat. As she did, her whiskers brushed up against his hand, making him giggle, "She is tickling me!"

Whiskers, again, finished, and was now sitting contently, half asleep in Arthur's arms. The two young nations sat in silence, petting the rabbit, until another voice ripped through the air,

"ARTHUR!?"

Arthur jumped to his feet, causing Francis to stand in alarm as well, "That's Scotland!" The boy exclaimed.

Francis tilted his head, "Has he been looking for you?"

Arthur looked panicked, "I've been hiding from him! I don't want him to find me! I don't want to go home!"

"Why not?"

The English nation looked back down to the bunny in his arms with tears in his eyes, "My brothers are mean, they say mean things. Do you know what Ireland said? He said that I was worthless, and that he hated me."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it." Francis tried to reassure him.

"ARTHUR! WHERE ARE YE?"

Arthur looked at Francis with pleading eyes, "Please, don't let him find me."

Francis thought about hiding or running with Arthur, but something didn't seem right, "He sounds worried."

"I don't want to go home." Arthur repeated, petting Whiskers nervously.

"I KNOW YE'RE AROUND 'ERE! YE DUMB RABBIT LIVES HERE!"

"He called her 'dumb'," The boy whispered, "She's not dumb, she's just a bunny."

"There ye are."

Francis turned to see a redheaded older teenager walking up with a tired expression, "C'mon, laddie, let's go home."

"I don't want to!" Arthur protested, tears streaming down his face.

The young Scotsman sighed, "Listen, Arthur. Patrick didn't mean what he said, he's just angry."

Arthur hugged his rabbit tighter, making her squeak in alarm. After whispering an apology to her, Arthur turned back to his brother, "I didn't even do anything!"

Scotland was now standing in front of them, towering over them, "Ssh, listen, ye ran off, and the three of us talked, and we are going to be much nicer to you."

The tears stopped falling, and now the little nation reduced to sniffling, "Promise?"

Scotland looked a bit guilty, "Uh, I and Dylan promised. Patrick didn't, but if he's too mean to ye, then I'll be mean to him. Alright?" The Scot held out his hand to his little brother, "How about we go home? I'll even let Whiskers join us."

Arthur said nothing, but eventually, he nodded at took his brother's hand. Scotland smiled, "Alright, say 'goodbye' to your friend."

"Goodbye, Francis."

"Fran-" The young Scot did a double take before glaring at the French nation, "France? Grandson of Rome?"

Francis took an uneasy step back, "Uh, oui."

The teen narrowed his eyes, "I would limit my visits here if I were ye, we aren't too fond of Rome after our mum's death, got it?"

Francis nodded quickly, "Oui, oui, I understand."

Scotland looked at France up and down judgingly before turning, "Come, Arthur."

Francis stood by himself as he watched the two brothers disappear in the trees. After they were gone, he smiled, the younger nation was just too cute. As he left the forest and headed home, he thought that, maybe, he and Arthur could become great friends.

Francis had no idea what he was in for.