Chapter 2: Ivan Arrives, A Bargain Is Struck, and The Journey Begins
Warnings: See first chapter.
X
Elsewhere in the world but not too far away a young man stood on the deck of a ship nearing the tiny port town of the Safari Zone. His bright red hunter's jacket was crisp and, despite the long voyage, his white breaches were still as pristine as when he got his uniform. Even with the newness of the outfit he stood perfectly comfortable in the clothing.
Clutched in his hand was a small booklet. The leather cover was stamped with the Imperial Russian crest - although between the cut of his hunter clothing and the overall gruff demeanor only a complete uncultured swine couldn't tell that the man was Russian.
Carefully the man brushed his thumb over the small portrait of himself. Then, just beneath the detailed ink drawing, his name, "Ivan Braginski." To complete the full circuit of the page, his thumb settled on the official embossed seal of his homeland.
This simple document – the few sheets of leather bound paper – were his keys to the universe. It proclaimed that he had been granted access to the most remote and heavily protected region left on Earth – and that he could take what he wanted from it with no questions asked.
With the faint smell of land wafting over the air, that universe was only a few short hours away from finally being in his hands. Until then, all he could do was focus on the here and now and mentally ready himself for the upcoming challenge.
Ivan was glad to be getting off of the cramped ship. Being stuck with an ill assortment of lowlifes was trying for anyone. They did not come from strong and powerful Russian stock but were weak sniveling idiots who thought that they would be able to get rich or gain fame quickly by coming to the Safari Zone. They had no higher purpose, unlike Ivan. No. Ivan was here on behalf of the Tsar himself. Every young noble man – anyone who was looking to make their way in the great Russian Empire – was tasked with such a journey. Only by coming to the Safari Zone and proving their worth by making it all the way to the Pacific Ocean and back could an individual be welcomed into high society. If one could stand up against the wilds of the land in the wildest place left on Earth then they would truly be of value to their nation.
Being selected for the journey so young had been quite the honor for Ivan's family. Thanks to his father's training, Ivan knew that he would not only make it to the Pacific Ocean and back, but return with many wanted boons for the Tsar's family and the high court.
A harsh cool breeze ripped across the deck. All around him other passengers shuddered and drew their coats closer to their bodies. They gawked at the looming approach of the land. Yet Ivan remained above it all. He stood tall and proud and unflinching in his red hunter's jacket – a very important gift from his sister. A hunter was nothing without his red jacket and Ivan knew that it would bring him luck beyond what the few other hunters in their red jackets had.
At landfall there was a large crush of scrambling bodies to disembark. Even so, Ivan's position on deck was not challenged. Instead everyone else swarmed around him like water flowing around a rock, eager to leave and find what awaited them in this new land.
Finally, when he deemed it appropriate to get off, Ivan slowly made his way down the gangplank. He would not visually express it but the sights and sounds were fascinating. Getting from the Russian capital across all of the empires in between there and the Atlantic, he had seen his fair share of port towns and trading villages. Yet there was something about the Safari Zone. The air seemed different. The people seemed different too. As Ivan cased the area he could begin to pick out patterns – the telltale signs coming from those who were retreating from the wild lands never to come back, those who were just starting out, and those who possessed a rugged quality unlike any other he'd ever experienced (clearly the local inhabitants, the "Zoners," who, while friendly enough, did not put up with any shit from anyone).
The town was quite small for a town. Back on the continent it would have never been called a town at all but it was the most populated area in the Safari Zone. By pure happenstance this lone outpost had managed to survive the years by barely hanging on. For that reason alone, this was where the people came to start their journey. Over the years it had become the officially sanctioned port of the Safari Zone – its one and only port of call.
It took him all of 10 minutes to walk through the whole place.
As Ivan sized up the situation he could not help but notice a number of his fellow hunters from the boat jamming into the tavern and the inn shouting for a decent bit of food and a roof over their heads for just one more night before they set off.
Fools. The lot of them fools.
Ivan would not fall to temptation. Safari Zone hunting passes were only good for three months – not much time to make your name. And while one could easily cut a trip short and return early if desired. Those that overstayed instantly became slaves of the Safari Zone Authority – an amalgamation of representatives from the various empires who enforced law in the Safari Zone. Their word was law. Even if a hunter managed to stow away on a returning ship they would be shunned from all society back on the continent. It was a necessary precaution. No one should get an unfair advantage over anyone else and more importantly no one should defile the environmental sanctity of the Safari Zone. To do so was social suicide in even the most backwards of societies – the Stewards of the Zone, the British Empire, had enough coercive power to make sure of that.
Instead of following the crowd Ivan started out into the wilderness. One last mediocre night at the inn and some poor-quality hot food would do him little good in the following days. Better to remember his last decent meal at the English High Court then some barely passable trifle. No need to soften up after working so hard to harden himself while on the voyage across the water.
Ivan's walk away from town was fairly pleasant. It was nice to not have to worry about much of anything other then getting to the Pacific Ocean. If he had been at home he would have had to be on guard for anything. There could be another instantaneous uprising he could get caught up in. There could be an assassination attempt – on him or on someone near him. Crazy bombers did not much care who got in the way of their target. Yes, despite the majesty and grandeur of the Russian High Society, much had changed since the violent overthrow of the weak Tsar (a Tsar who had never proved himself in the Zone no less), the revolution times, and then the forceful, brutal reinstatement of the strongest branch of the remaining royal family.
It was nearing dusk when Ivan's musings were cut short by the snap of a twig. He cursed under his breath at how he had let his mind wander. It was an amateur mistake. His guard should not have been down despite the lack of people around him. The Safari Zone was not the single largest killer on the planet for nothing.
Ivan's whole body was tense as he examined his surroundings. Where had the birdcalls gone? Slowly Ivan drew his sword. He had a gun but he did not want to waste his limited number of shots this early on in the trip.
Despite his best efforts to be stealthy the tiny schlink of his sword against the scabbard let forth a flurry of activity. Before Ivan could really register what his assailant was he charged in the direction of the sound. It wasn't always an advantage to have the first attack but the noise did not sound heavy enough for a person. If it was something as simple as a wild animal he might as well catch dinner by making the first move. With a mighty slice in the general direction of the disturbance Ivan vaguely registered a shriek. It was inhuman enough to be an animal so he slashed again. Then the bushed exploded in front of him.
A small boy shot out of the foliage screaming and wailing.
The boy smashed right into Ivan's legs but Ivan was braced for assault and didn't budge an inch. The boy however fell over backwards, whimpering and crying and looking at Ivan with big broken eyes. The sudden unexpected series of events gave Ivan enough pauses to fully register that there was a human in front of him. And that the poor boy was bleeding heavily from Ivan's slashes.
Ivan made a move to lower his sword but the action, however slight, startled the young boy who scramble up again and turned to run back into the bushes. Instead his foot caught on a small, previously hidden warren at the base of the shrub he had originally emerged from. After some frantic tugging the child's foot was dislodged and a rabbit burst forth from the enlarged hole causing the kid to tumble backwards again.
Not one to pass up an opportunity, Ivan slashed at the rabbit. By luck alone he killed the creature. It would be perfect for dinner that night and the hide could be traded for something down the road. With all of the distractions out of the way, Ivan turned back to the fainted child.
The boy's clothes were positively shredded. Ivan could tell that they had once been on the nicer side but even the finest tailor in all the world would not have been able to revive the rags. He wore no shoes. There might have been the fragment of a sock on his left ankle but it could have also been the remains of his pants cuff too. He was bused and scraped up. The slash mark Ivan had given him was on the side of his neck in a near perfect "x". Not being the best judge of neck wounds and arteries, the kid may or may not live to see the next morning. Ivan couldn't tell how on Earth the pattern was achieved with his random slashes but the cuts were deep and bleeding heavily. Of particular note were the purple stains all over his face and hands. Whoever the kid was, he knew where a berry bush was located. That was cause enough for Ivan to keep him alive. For the time being at least.
Even after Ivan had skinned the rabbit and cooked its flesh the boy had not stirred. Not one to take chances with something that could come back to bite him, Ivan tied the boy to a nearby tree. The kid's bleeding from the slashes had mostly stopped but it still wasn't a guarantee that he could pull out of it and live. Ivan tucked in for the night without much more thought on the situation.
X
Ivan woke with the birds. It was a good habit to make and kept one from being killed by anything prowling about in the early dawn.
It was only when he had consumed the last morsels of the rabbit he had saved for the morning did he notice that the boy had his eyes on him. Ivan curse himself again for another oversight. How could he not have noticed that the boy had survived his neck wounds and woken up? He could not afford to get sloppy this early in the game. He had to survive this trial or shame himself, his family, and his Tsar. Failure was unacceptable.
He decided then that before he killed the nuisance and reminder of his failure he would question the boy about what he knew – particularly in regard to the berries.
"Who are you?" Ivan started. The boy just regarded him with wide eyes. Perhaps greeting the other in Russian was not the best idea. When French and German elicited no reaction he tried English.
"Al- " the boy started only to screw up his face in agony and stop. Ivan could see the problem. His mouth movements had agitated the slashes, pulling at the still congealing blood and semi-scabbed over mark. Tears began to roll down the boy's face at his newfound inability to speak. Or maybe at the fact that he was tied up. Or maybe both. Ivan didn't really care. Instead he found it to be a nice turn of events.
It was in that instant that Ivan recalled something his father once told him – people, his father had said, were stupid. They could be told what to do and be lead right to their deaths only because they trusted your word. When you hold all the cards, make them do all the work so you don't have to risk your own neck. Ivan thought it was pretty sound advice and perfect for the inept boy in front of him who had inadvertently provided him with dinner. And who also couldn't pester him by talking.
Maybe some companionship on this trip would not be so bad. At the very least he would have someone expendable to try out certain foods or to bargain with if he met any undesirables out in the Wild.
Now to set the plan in motion.
"You do not have to speak," said Ivan. "I am sorry for hurting you last night but you startled me." The boy had stopped crying at Ivan's gentle tones but still had a pitiful expression.
"I am thinking that it would be beneficial for the both of us if you come with me," Ivan continued. "See, I am on a journey to the Pacific Ocean and it would be lonely to go the whole way myself without some company."
The boy's face took on a more thoughtful expression but Ivan continued on again, "It is the least I can do after accidently giving you that scratch and having you help me catch dinner last night."
With a soft smile Ivan stood and began to approach the boy with his small knife. The boy's eyes widened and he began to squirm frantically against the tree he was tied to. Ivan kept his features schooled and slowly reached out to pat the small child on the head.
"It is alright," Ivan said. The boy had finally stilled but was still gazing terror at the knife. "I am only cutting you free. Don't worry." He couldn't help but let loose a chuckle as the boy practically held his breath as the thick vines were cut. Just before the final slice Ivan stilled and looked directly into the boys eyes. "If you attempt to run I will hunt you down." He waited until the boy nodded his head in understanding before finishing the job.
With nothing to support his weight, the boy practically crumpled into Ivan.
"None of that now," Ivan said. "You have to be strong or I will leave you behind." That was all it took for the kid to nod obediently and begin to tail him through the underbrush.
As they walked along Ivan couldn't help but notice that the kid was being quiet for an ungraceful person. That was probably the reason why he managed to get the drop on Ivan in the first place.
The going was rather slow as the terrain became more steep and rugged. Ivan only had to backhand the boy once when he had tripped and tugged on Ivan's coat. Sure it would take a bit longer now for the kid's scar to heal up thanks to Ivan's retaliation but no one messed with the coat his sister made. At least the two of them had a better understanding of each other now.
By lunch the kid had already proven his worth by finding a berry bush for them to snack on. This usefulness was proving to be less burdensome then Ivan had anticipated. Still, it was annoying to call his companion "the kid" or "the boy" or "idiot" in his head. To mark a milestone in their relationship he dubbed his new shadow "Al" – which was probably the beginning of his name that he had tried to say the night before.
Still full from the berries at lunch Ivan didn't bother to hunt for dinner that night. It was more worth it to him to press on and see the sights on the way to the Pacific then stop and dally around trying to eat. Al made some whining noises at the unspoken decision but was quickly silenced by a glare from Ivan.
That night as Ivan unrolled his sleeping mat Al very cautiously approached Ivan as if to share the space with him. It frustrated Ivan that Al did no know his place in their traveling arrangement. Every time Al got close, Ivan would bat him away. After many attempts Al finally got too exhausted to keep trying to access the warmth Ivan had in his sleeping mat and passed out just outside of Ivan's reach. Not long after Ivan also fell asleep but not after resolving to further solidify the relationship dynamic his father had talked about.
Again having a traveling companion proved its worth the next day when the duo ran into a bobcat when crossing over a small mountain range. They had just turned a corner when it came out of nowhere. Thinking quickly Ivan all but threw Al at the animal as he drew his pistol before shooting the beast dead. He had missed Al by a few centimeters and the other was sporting an interesting bite mark on his forearm but the duo had emerged victorious.
Al made no attempt to try and snuggle up to him that when they went to bed that night.
Before long they began to work as a pretty good team. Between Al's clumsiness and Ivan purposely risking Al's neck over his own, Al was quickly becoming rather adept at surviving. Ivan too had grown used to the Wilds – knowing the ever-changing surroundings and the animals that came with it. He used his skill and cunning and his father's advice to propel himself through the vast lands.
He had no contact with anyone but Al and that was ok.
Their first true rough patch came when Al's voice came back. Ivan was making one-sided small talk at the campfire as he roasted the deer he'd had Al flush out from what Ivan had thought was a poisonous plant but was actually just a really thorny plant.
"You are fine, Al," said Ivan. "Do not give me that puppy dog look. We needed to get dinner and you were just the right size for the job."
Al just licked his lips as he worked to remove the bush's pokey bits out of his skin. It wasn't causing him to bleed much but it still hurt pretty bad. When he was finally done he turned to give Ivan his full attention.
"'M Alfred," he said. The voice was rusty with disuse but even in its smallness, the statement hung heavy in the air.
Ivan's simple chatter stopped dead. The pair regarded each other – Ivan with wide eyes filled with shock at the other talking and Alfred's with a growing dread that he had done something horribly wrong. Eventually Ivan's face returned to neutral and he slowly got up. Alfred tensed. He'd learned by now that running was never the good option when it came to Ivan. Instead he swallowed and tried to hide his fear as Ivan spent the next few minutes rummaging around in his pack. Alfred was puzzled when Ivan came back with only one serving plate and set of utensils. Ivan merely smiled at Alfred when the other realized that he wasn't going to get any dinner that night despite the over abundance of the delicious smelling deer. Alfred whined in the back of his throat much the way that he normally did to communicate his displeasure of something. Ivan's grin only became more pronounced as Alfred made no move to reach of the food or verbally ague again. Alfred did nothing more that night than curl into himself as he watched Ivan eat in peace.
When Ivan had finished up he turned back to the rest of the deer and made preparations to smoke the leftover meat. It wouldn't due to waste such a prolific amount of food.
As dusk turned into night and Ivan set about going to bed, he finally turned to regard Alfred who had not moved since his near-fatal error.
Even as Ivan made his approach Alfred shrunk further down into himself. Ivan could see the tear tracts running down Alfred's face – he was unsure if it was due to the fear of Ivan retaliating or the pain of knowing that he was not allowed to talk that caused them but both options made Ivan happy.
"Have we learned our lesson?" said Ivan. Alfred only nodded. "Alfred look at me – have you learned?" Only slowly did Alfred turn his face toward Ivan and draw his eyes up. Just as quickly he looked away and nodded. Which such a positive response Ivan sat down right next to Alfred. He could tell that Alfred was doing his best to not flinch away.
Alfred's only reaction came when Ivan thrust a piece of the recently made jerky into Alfred's face. He made a quizzical noise and looked at Ivan. Fed up with Alfred's timidness, Ivan forced the piece of jerky into Alfred's mouth. If the boy didn't get sick by morning then the meat was done. If he did they would have to hold over for a bit longer when the new day arrived to finish the meat. Alfred though, was oblivious to the inner workings of curing meat and gobbled down the piece with gusto even going so far as to lick his lips from where some of the smoky goodness had stuck when his lips were forced open.
Alfred didn't get sick that night so by morning the duo packed up and were moving on again. Not once did Alfred try to talk and the only true recollection of the conversation was that Ivan began calling Alfred "Alfred" instead of just "Al".
X
It took Ivan two full weeks to get out of the mountains and forests and reach the prairies. He was not happy with his pace. They were going too slow – and it wasn't even Alfred's fault either. But now that the difficult terrain was at their backs they could make quick time across the flatlands. Ivan's father had often told tales of how the only reason he had made the deadline on the Safari Zone hunting pass was because of the flatlands. All you had to do was follow the sun and it was a straight shot to the coast. Day or night you could tell where you were without getting lost or staggering about.
Shockingly Alfred was able to keep up with Ivan's increased pace even as the tall grasses thrashed his body. Ivan was lucky enough to have his coat and pants still in good condition and despite the heat kept them on. Alfred on the other hand had nothing but the even more raggedy rags from before. It wasn't Ivan's place to clothe the other so no effort was made to fix the situation. Yet Alfred never complained even as he licked his wounds at the end of each day when they finally stopped long after sundown and the moon had risen.
On these long days they ate the jerky they had accumulated during their trek. Ivan knew that sometime during these hot months there would be a great swarm of bugs to eat but until then they had to deal with the reserves and the occasional prairie dog they managed to catch on the way. There was no stopping for food, just pressing on and eating on the go.
When they were wading through the sea of grass one afternoon Ivan had the chance to marvel at how Alfred practically ran laps around him – checking out this or that and sometimes bringing things back to Ivan.
On one memorable occasion five days out from when they first hit the prairies Alfred came back with a prairie dog. It had clearly put up a bit of a fight if Alfred's face was anything to go by and the poor thing probably died horribly if the way Alfred had wrung its neck was any indication but Ivan still gave lavish praise for his companion. The boy was learning quickly though Ivan's guidance and was proving to be a nice asset to Ivan's expedition. It wasn't that Ivan needed this extra assistance – without Alfred he wouldn't even have needed the added food but as long as he managed to aid the trip then Ivan wouldn't complain.
That night he gave Alfred more food then he normally did. It was only fair to reward the hunter for the meal.
Every day from that point on Alfred would trail around Ivan looking for food. He was always within earshot and would come when Ivan called for him but usually Ivan just let Alfred prowl around in one big moving circle around him. If he caught something, all the better. If not, Alfred would have a good sulk that night and Ivan would console him by spinning tales of the stars in the inky blackness.
Normally Ivan was not one to indulge in these childish fantasies but Alfred would always whine for more stories. It was nice that, despite some minor differences, the sky remained the same as it was back home. It served as Ivan's constant reminder to why he was on this trek and why he had to be successful.
X
Ivan could see the tree line and distant mountain peaks when the swarm hit.
Giant massive bugs came at them like a deluge. Ivan had just enough time to all but drag Alfred to a makeshift shelter between a pathetic tree and a small boulder before they were inundated. As the thousands of little bodies pelted his own protective clothing he could hear Alfred crying.
When the insanity had finally died down Alfred was a bloody mess and sobbing hysterically from being clipped by wings and legs. It had been a long time since Ivan had seen Alfred behave so pathetically.
Ivan almost left him behind right there but thought against it at the last moment. Alfred would get over it. He was more of a mess because of the fright the bugs caused then the pain (or at least that's how Ivan decided to justify not killing Alfred on the spot or leaving him).
It was sunset now and normally they would have continued walking longer than this but stopping early just this one time would not be so bad. It would also give Ivan time to gather as much of the bugs up that he could carry so they could eat like kings for the next few days.
By the time Alfred had stopped being a sniveling mess Ivan had already amassed an enormous mound of bugs and was working on weaving a basket of grasses for Alfred to have a pack of his own to carry. As tempting as it was to just load up his own pack and have Alfred carry it, the boy was still too hazard prone and would probably lose it – not a fatal setback but an inconvenient one.
As curious as ever Alfred watched Ivan's skilled hands flick the strands back and forth as they were slowly woven together. Still shaky from his ordeal with the bugs, Alfred attempted to mimic Ivan's movements and make his own basket but Alfred's bloody, dirty hands proved to be no good at weaving so Ivan just had him gather up more bugs. Every so often Alfred would find a semi-live one in the mass and scream but it was more funny to Ivan than anything else at the moment so he let it slide.
Once Ivan's baskets were done, they ate. They ate until they were so full they couldn't eat anymore. While the bugs didn't have the best taste in the universe, they still were edible.
In the looming shadows of the mountains the pair had few cares in the world at that moment.
X
It took all of Ivan's skill to navigate them through the intense mountains. He lost count of the number of times he wound up yelling at Alfred for doing something stupid only to forgive Alfred shortly after for doing something equally stupid like taking on a bear single handedly or saving Ivan from a snake.
Objectively Ivan could tell that all of this intense work was doing wonders for Alfred's physique. Despite the added strain in diet and prolific amounts of exercise, Alfred had shot up a good few inches. When they first met he was only up to Ivan's waist, now he was almost mid-chest and had skin that seemed to be impervious to the sun unlike Ivan's own. Ivan hadn't cared how much Alfred had laughed at him when he first dawned a crudely constructed grass hat but it was better then turning into a lobster even in the crisper mountain air.
X
Once they were over the mountains it was smooth sailing. The food was plentiful and the walk was much more agreeable. When they finally arrived to the Pacific Ocean both Ivan and Alfred were in awe. It seemed nothing like the Atlantic they had come from even if the other was an ocean too.
Alfred was the first one to break the spell. He grabbed Ivan by the hand and practically dragged him to the water's edge. With each lapping wave Alfred dared to get closer but never close enough to get wet. Ivan watched the display but soon tired of seeing Alfred scamper along the water's edge. Ivan snatched him up when he came near enough and threw Alfred in. Alfred squealed when he hit the freezing waters but quickly began laughing and splashing about in the shallows.
When Alfred got pleasantly distracted by a crab, Ivan moved the last little bit of the way to the water. He crouched down and let the water run through his fingers. While he had never doubted that he would make it to the Pacific Ocean, actually being there was quite mind-boggling. Between the cold water, the faint breeze, the warm sun, and Alfred babbling a wordless tune that sounded vaguely reminiscent of something Ivan remembered from the English shores so long ago at the jumping off point of his journey, Ivan had a hard time telling himself that this moment was real.
Still…now that they were here it was time to get down to business.
Proof that he had been to the Pacific Ocean came in a few ways. First he had to find an odd shell that looked like a hat. They were fairly small and were somewhat plentiful in Japan but did not appear anywhere other than these two places. The Japanese guarded theirs with a fierce pride and therefore not many left the island. They made for wonderful accentuating ornaments in furniture though so the shells were a popular commodity – either taken by force or bootlegged out of the country. Ivan had seen drawings of the shells and it wasn't hard to find an abundance of them.
On his trek here he had already found much of the other plants and animals that served as checkpoints of sorts for his journey. Besides the shells there were only three other things to find. The pelt of a sea otter, an odd white flower with three petals, and some wild hops. Everything else he brought back was a bonus.
That night as he and Alfred bedded down in the sand, Ivan thought about all of the goods that had brought fame and fortune in the courts back home. He thought of the odd and the rare things he could pack back to make the Tsar and his family proud.
The next day he had Alfred collect as many of the funny hat shells that he could stuff into the woven pack Ivan had made that, despite it all, had survived the mountain crossing. This left Ivan plenty of time to think about accomplishing his other tasks. In his contemplations he got lucky and found a hoard of the otters. They seemed to have no fear of him so he again rounded up Alfred and they managed to bag nearly a dozen of them.
Alfred found the hops.
Ivan had drawn him a picture in the sand of the plant and when Ivan was dealing with the otter pelts Alfred had presented him with a handful of buds. The bush or vine, Ivan really couldn't tell, was not at all like what the book back in court described it to be but the little buds matched everything he remembered so it must've been it.
Laden with gear they set off for the return trip that very afternoon. Ivan made sure to have the essentials in his pack. He also jammed all of the extras into Alfred's now reinforced bag with the firm instructions not to lose it or drop it.
Before either of them knew it they were nearing the mountains. The trip was much more expedient now that they knew the way. Alfred in particular was very sharp at keeping them on course. Ivan figured it was because Alfred was closer to the ground or something.
That being said, Alfred's odd crouches were becoming more twisted because he had sprouted again and was now just above mid-chest in height to Ivan – it was probably all the fresh air doing him good. Even so, there was no denying that Alfred had managed to hone his instincts to a razors edge and was now just as good at reading the landscape if not better then Ivan himself.
X
Author's Notes: Chibi wildchild is not necessarily a badass wildchild…yet…we've still got to get to that point. There's still quite a bit of the Alfred we all know and love that needs to be more stripped down first. While the original wildchild!au doesn't much delve in to the specifics of the "how did we get here" side of things, coming up with a beginning is sometimes a lot easier when you know the end destination. You may have noticed that the touch point era I gave you for the British Empire doesn't quite match up with the eras for the Russian Empire and the Japanese Empire – this is part of the AU fun, just blame the ripple effects of alternate history. If you want more nation back-story feel free to message me on tumblr. That being said, the Safari Zone (named by the canon AU and not my choice because all I can ever think of is Pokémon whenever I write it) was created by the first ever world summit in this AU-ception universe. The English, being one of the most powerful groups at the table and certainly with the most experience in both environmental policy (big social uprising after all the trees got cut down and people found the cause of the killer fogs with the help of Wales and Scotland) and of conquering of new lands (with the help of Ireland) was the one to propose the solution. The Safari Zone would cover the entirety of the continent from the edge of Spain's holdings in the crushed Aztec Empire up to the impenetrable icy regions where the remaining native populations of the Safari Zone still eked out a survival. This Safari Zone would not be in the hands of any one nation but rather a council would meet every 5 years to evaluate the status of the land.
The "Zoners" Ivan first meets when he gets off the boat are considered British citizens although many of them hail from outside the British Empire. They're not quite American or Canadian but they do have that rough and tumble, unfettered attitude that is so characteristic of any people in a place that's a bit more off the grid then normal.
Lastly, most hunters don't need to go all the way to the Pacific Ocean and back unlike Russians so the 3-month pass is standard practice…many don't even stay the whole of the 3 months. You can get an extension (more info in future chapters) that logically and physically will enable you to get there and back based on several documented cases of people walking coast-to-coast and back in just under 5 months. If you pool native sources and the relay runners of South America and compare distances and terrain style, the time frame is actually quite doable (a bit murderous for this day and age but doable).