Chapter Two

At a young age, England took great delight in the company of France; despite denying this for centuries later. His elder was kind, generous and walked with England in companionable silence for the most part. England was aware his verbal linguistic skills were still very patchy due to his youth, but he was old enough to understand many of things that others said to him. He was frustrated by his lack of ability to reply, therefore silent company was golden to him. The quiet also allowed him to make the most of the sounds of nature that reverberated around the landscape in which they travelled. The rustling of trees in the wind, the faint sounds of human activity, the chirping of birds and the lazy buzz of insects that droned through the warm, late summer air. The whole formed a perfect symphony of sound that the child could never call dull - his senses enriched by the music of nature.

So when an abrupt voice interrupted his thoughts he was somewhat startled and instinctively stopped walking, taking a step backwards.

"Hello little one! You are England are you not?"

England paused in his walking, looking around to locate the source of the voice and momentarily forgetting about France who walked behind him.

"I am up here little England!"

The mysterious voice was rich and smooth but quite high pitch, almost effeminate in its delicacy whilst being distinctly male. England looked up, finally locating the source of the noise and raising his impressive eyebrows in a gesture of surprise at what he saw. Hovering at about the height of an average man was a small, green...what?

To describe the unusual creature before him would be no mean feat. The most striking feature was its colour - a soft, pastel green that was akin to a dew kissed mint leave in the soft dawn light. Its fur was short and looked velvet soft to the child. Its limbs were small with its back legs far longer than its short front legs. On its back were two large wings that were a good nine inches apiece (the creature was small so the wings appeared large in proportion to its little body), and arrayed in beautiful, translucent, pale green feathers. Displayed proudly on the small of its back was a small cotton tail that looked as though it had been plucked off any bunny. Its mouth lit up in a bright smile that was reflected in its emerald green eyes. All in all it was a mint coloured bunny that could fly and apparently talk.

Little England knew he was young for a nation and his mind was immature and childish. It meant he had yet to discover many things in the world and as such he spent a lot of his time exploring and satisfying his curiosity. Yet even he knew that this creature was something special and unusual, remarkable in its unique physique. He smiled, curiosity still in his eyes but overwhelmed by his innocent joy in seeing such a special thing. He reached a gentle hand up as an offering of peace to the creature and it laughed happily and nuzzled into his fingers.

"England, you are so sweet!" It spoke between its happy giggling, "Will you follow me? There is much I have to show you!"

It beckoned to the child before flying off into the woods quickly. Surprised by the abrupt departure, England let out a small cry before collecting himself and running full pelt after the special creature. He was unbothered by the risk of danger, caring only that he kept the small flying bunny in his sights. Subconsciously, he was aware of France calling for him but he paid little heed, charging off after his new acquaintance. His footsteps were light, for he had long ago learnt the art of tracking and remaining undetected in places such as these in order to both find food and avoid those who would seek to bestow harm upon his frail body.

The creature led him out of the woods and into an open, grassy plain. A few red deer who were grazing peacefully on the plain, took fright at his appearance and galloped off into the distance. The bunny slowed to a halt and allowed him to catch his breath and take in his surroundings, hovering by his shoulder while he did so.

The grass was thick and long, wild and unkempt and taller than the infant, meaning he could see little other than grass and sky. The lack of features on the horizon suggested that the grass went on for some distance. Although he thought he could just make out some standing stones in the distance. Wild flowers were scattered like stars and he picked a pretty purple-blue one and gave it to the creature, a large smile lighting his features as he did so. It tentatively took it in its tiny paws, looking at England with a questioning expression.

The child tentatively explained in his garbled infant tongue, "You fwend! Flower for fwend!"

"You picked a rare flower to give to me - I am sure from now on many people will associate this flower with friendship." His eyes twinkled as he spoke, "Come now, let us move on. It will not take us long to reach our destination now."

The two toddled and flew together, side by side in a companionable silence, reflecting England's travels with France earlier that very day. Not that England really thought about him. It was as though for some reason the other did not matter and the only thing that mattered was walking forwards. He had felt a pull in this direction for some time now, as though the land was guiding him to this location. England had barely thought about it until now when the feeling was akin to being pulled forward by an invisible force. All other thoughts left him and he became fixated on walking closer and closer to the point that the world wanted him to go. Even his companion slipped from his thoughts as he picked up his pace. Nothing mattered other than reaching his destination.

There was a ditch to start with, shallow and circular in dimension. Beyond it the grass was cut short, he did not know whether people or the magic of the place had cut it. Scattered in a rough circle within the confines of the ditch were about a few stone blocks about the size of him, some a bit bigger. Beyond this and at the centre of the configuration were gigantic pillars of stone in a circle, the pairs capped with a hat in the form of another gigantic stone. Inside of that was another smaller circle but with stones that were even larger. Right at the centre was another circle of the smaller stones, forming the very heart of this strange complex. Marring the ground were giant stones that had once stood tall and proud but were now fallen in disarray - yet all made the place remarkable. It was out of this world, beautiful, ancient and perfect.

Tentatively, he stepped forwards, crossing the ditch slowly to enter into the sacred ground. The world around him seemed to hold its breath - the wind stilled, the birds stopped chirping and even the flying bunny hovered back, watching with bated breath from a distance. The child stepped over to one of the smaller stones outside the main ring and reached out a hand to touch it. He felt an exhilarating tremor run through his body. This place was full of magic and wonder and every step closer to the centre made him feel the magic of it pulsating through it. The rock itself seemed to shimmer with magic, mimicking a heartbeat of the sacred sight.

Slowly, he moved away from the rock and turned his attention to the large rings of rocks that dominated the landscape. Cautiously, he walked towards them, passing through the invisible barrier that the circle provided. He automatically walked towards the centre, barely aware of his actions. He reached out to one of the smaller stones and touched it with a gentle caress.

Instantly a face flashed into his vision and he cried out in surprise. The face looked similar to himself - blonde rugged hair and thick eyebrows - but the eyes were a pale blue and he was evidently slightly older. He instinctively realised that this person was another nation. A name sprung unbidden to his lips, "Wales." This nation was called Wales. He places a second hand on the rock and the vision became clearer. Another thought crossed through his mind - these smaller rocks came from Wales. Where were these thoughts coming from? It was as though the rock itself was telling him, yet he somehow doubted that.

He pulled away once more, walking idly between the stones but never leaving the ring of larger stones. Gradually, almost on instinct, his path took him to the centre of the central ring. There he stopped and took a deep breath. He felt as though he had never taken a breath before - the air was so perfect here it almost tasted sweet to him. In the distance he thought he heard someone call his name but he barely paid attention. Standing at the centre of this complex and magical place he turned a small circle, his small arms spread wide as he gazed up to the sky. This was it. The place he was supposed to come. The spot that the world had told him to reach.

With a sudden sense of purpose he sat down in the centre of the complex and placed both his hands down on the ground, connecting himself to the centre of this strange little world.

With that movement everything went black...

A/N: I hope my descriptions of Flying Mint Bunny and Stonehenge are both adequate, please correct me if there are any major faults.

Thank you for reading and supporting my story so far!

I do not own Hetalia.