Through my Eyes

Meeting of the French man

When we first found him, I did not want to save him.

The man was not hard to spot as his thin blue and red clothing stood out against the white snow and his face was probably turning blue with the cold. I still did not want to save him. Somewhere inside me was telling me that if we were to save this man, it would change our lives forever.

It wasn't until later that I realized that I was right.

But he did not want to leave him. He was fascinated with the man. He could see that the man's skin colour was not dark like the other people of the land, even with the blue hue cast on his skin by the frost. I could not pull him away as he walked up to the unconscious, and probably dying of cold, man and promptly brushed the snow away from his hair and face. A small gasp of astonishment escaped his mouth.

The man looked exactly like him! The man had yellow hair, though not as pale as his hair, it also had the same waviness to it as his own. He probably wondered, just as I did, if the man had the same coloured eyes as himself. He would not leave the man and I could not make him and when he pleaded to me with his luminous eyes and I could not refuse him.

So we both, with our small bodies, dragged him from where he lay to where we were currently staying – me with my teeth on one of his shoulders and his tiny hands on the other. We were lucky at that time; we have found an abandoned cabin deep in the forest and been staying there for the past few weeks or so, maybe months – we do not really keep track of time. No one would find us there though, with the way we were creating a small path through the snow with the man's body and our small foot/pawprints, I hoped that a hunter will not travel out this far and see it. I gave myself a small reminder to deal with it later if the snow has not covered it up then.

When we finally both got the man into our small cabin, we placed him on the small cot in the center of the room and covered him with furs that I swiped from the other people. He sat beside the man and waited for him to wake up, touching the man's face at every small time interval as if to prove to himself that the man was truly there. That he was not the only weird one in this land of snow.

I left him by the man's side as I went out to deal with the path we made and when I came back, he was still at the same place, unmoving. I sat down beside him and waited alongside him for the man to wake up.


We were dosing off to sleep when the man finally gave any semblance of waking up. The man gave a small groan and then let out a "J'ai très froid..." under his breath.

I stared at him blankly as I realized I just understood what he said even though I have never heard the language before.

I'm very cold.

I glanced over to him to see if he understood it as well but all I could see was excitement in his eyes as he reached over and lightly patted the man on the cheek.

"Est-ce vous...? Mon..." the man mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes and we were both disappointed when we saw this his eyes were not the same as his eyes after all – they were of a bluer sort than his own. I blinked again when comprehension came over me.

Is that you..? My...

I wondered whoever he thought we were but didn't, or couldn't ask. We waited until he fully woke up. It took awhile for his eyes to finally focus and focus on us and when it did, he jumped back, or tried to since he was covered in a lot of furs.

"Qui êtes-vous?!" he looked around him, "Où suis-je?!"

Who are you?! Where am I?!

When the man's eyes fell upon me, he let out an unmanly scream and hollered, "Mon dieu! Il ya un ours ici!" all the while pointing his finger at me. How rude.

My God! There is a bear in here!

He, probably sensing the animosity in the man's voice or maybe, like me, can understand the man's words, quickly walked over to me and held me close to his body.

"Est... est-ce le vôtre?" the man said, less panicky now that he realized that he was in cabin with a small child and an even smaller polar bear.

Is... is that yours?

The man was probably referring to me when he said "that". I made an incredulous noise at the back of my throat and the man kind of shrunk back into the furs. Yes I am his and he is mine as well! I wanted to say out loud but I still did not know that I could speak words and even if I did, what language would I have spoken in?

He titled his head a bit to the side as if in thinking and I again wondered if he understood the words the same as I. Then with the smallest of motion, he gave a small nod. So he did understand as well!

The man also looked a bit surprised that he understood him as well and then said, in that language of his, "You are not of L'Angleterre's people?"

Once again, he tilted his side to the side but this time in complete confusion – who was this 'L'Angleterre'? The man could see the confusion in his eyes and quietly murmured to himself, "and you are not of mine since I did not bring any children here..."

All of a sudden, as if the man had a sudden epiphany, and he probably did, he shot his head straight up, stared at his eyes for a bit as if searching for something and then when he found what he was looking for in his eyes, he let out a happy squeal.

"Then you must be the child of this land!" the man let out and would have probably grabbed him in delight if I was not still in his arms and was giving the man a threatening look.

He looked down on me in confusion. 'Child of this land'? What was that supposed to mean?

The man did not allow us to collect our thoughts as he quickly took his small hands in his own, causing him to drop me onto the floor – the man probably finally deemed me not dangerous as a child was able to hold me and not get hurt but he was different! I proceeded to scratch the man with my small claws but was interrupted when said man let out another drabble in that language of his.

"Of course you would not understand! You are much too young and small! But you are just like me! I will take good care of you and you will be mine, yes?"

My paw stopped inches away from the man's body as I took in what was being said.

No no! He is not like you! He is like me! I have been taking good care of him; we don't need you! And he won't be yours! He is mine! Not yours!!

I wanted to scream it out but my vocals were not meant for human words, not yet. I looked up at him to see the same reaction reflected in his face but all I saw was admiration, adoration and lastly, acceptance.

It broke my heart but when I slowly took in the state of how he was in and I realized, I cannot do much for him at all.

Of course this man is more like him than I, he was a human and I was not. Of course the man could take better care of him, he was all big and tall and I was not. This man could probably hunt for his own food and cook them for him, unlike me who could only steal cooked food from the other people and because of that, he looked underfed. The man was a grown man while I was still a small, unchanging polar bear. There should not be any comparison.

He will be in better care if he was this man's and not mine, I thought. I had made my decision then and even if he is not mine, I will always be his. It was all right, it will be all right.

He gave a small nod and that was it. The man waited until he considered it to be "less cold", whatever that may be, before taking him up into his arms and walked out the cabin's door.

The only thing I could do was follow them out.


Notes: Yes! It's the FRENCH MAN (AKA Francis Bonnefoy). It was quite funny for the few people who was unsure of who it was, no insults meant. Ahaha I thought I made it obvious (a bit) but I guess I should've put "pale wavy yellow hair" to make it more obvious huh? Oh and for the Nordics never really stayed thus Matthew didn't really have the chance to "see" them and stuff and America was probably busy with England I think XD.

Ah and I am not french, though I DID take french but that was some odd.. 4-5 years ago? Ahaha so correct me if I did anything wrong. I was clever and just made him speak english in ITALICS - which symbolizes that he is speaking in french! (Thank you Stella Solaris for pointing out a small error! - Fixed it now~)

I also had troubles trying to differentiate between Francis' "he/him/his" and Matthew's "he/him/his" because Matthew hasn't gotten a name yet (nor would Kumajirou would remember it anyways - gonna give a reason in the next chapter I think) so I placed Matthew's "he/him/his" in italics and hoped you readers could tell the difference.

And at the end, DON'T YOU FEEL SORRY FOR KUMAJIROU?!?! I do! When I showed this fanfic to my friend, she said that I made Kumajirou sound so protective and I guess I did... Alwell~~ He is cute like that~ Oh and didn't Francis sounded like a pedophile too? But that's okay, England sounded much like a pedophile when HE found America so it's all good...

Till next chapter~!