Author's Note: Historical tidbit - General Henry Clinton was the British Commander-in-Chief for North America, making him of an even higher rank than Cornwallis. At this point in the American Revolution (summer 1780) Clinton was in New York, shadowing Washington's army, which was in the same area.

Both generals will make an appearance in the next chapter, I promise.

Edit: had to make a small cut. Nothing major.

England woke up late the following morning, and it took him a couple of seconds to realize he was still on the floor. Picking himself up slowly, massaging his neck as he did so, England then walked over to the room's window and looked outside.

To his dismay, he noticed it was way past sunrise. He'd overslept.

To compound England's frustration, the younger America was still asleep. Muttering under his breath, England went over to the side of the bed. He grabbed the younger America by the shoulders, and shook him until he woke up.

Upon opening his eyes, the younger America panicked for a fraction of a second, and seized England's arms and shoved him away. England stumbled backwards and crashed into the wall.

"Calm down, America! It's just me!" England said as he picked himself up.

The younger America sat there on the bed, staring wide-eyed at England. After a few seconds, however, he visibly relaxed, and gave England an apologetic look.

"You startled me," the younger America said.

"Sorry about that," England said. "But, we both overslept. We have to go."

The younger America glanced over at the window, finally realizing how late in the morning it was. He stood up and walked over to England.

"We should eat something first…" he said.

He reached into his coat and pulled out some of his travel rations, handing some of it to England. England looked down at what the younger America had given him.

It was a piece of bread so stale that it felt more like rock than bread. Unfortunately, it was all they had, so England went ahead and bit into it. He and the younger America spent a minute quietly eating the meager meal, but when they finished, they both immediately headed outside to find their horses. Within minutes, they were out of the town.

Not a word was exchanged between the two of them for quite a while. England simply followed the younger America; the boy had said he knew which route the younger England had taken. Now, it was just a matter of intercepting the younger England before the he reached his destination – wherever that was.

My younger self won't be able to force Washington's surrender with that tiny force that he took with him, England thought. He's probably planning on joining with more of his own forces. Now that I think about it, General Henry Clinton is up there as well; his army must the one my younger self is planning to rendezvous with.

As the ride went on, England lost track of time. It wasn't until the younger America brought them into another town that England noticed how late it was. They'd been riding almost all day; the sun was already starting to set.

"We're in Virginia now," the younger America said. "We're catching up to them. But, the horses need to rest…"

At this rate, we'll wear them out completely, England thought. We may need to change horses. But, I don't know if America's younger self has the money to buy a pair of fast horses… well, unless we stole them…

"Alfred," England said.

The younger America brought his horse to a halt. He turned around in the saddle, giving England a questioning look.

"What?"

"We're going to wear the horses out. We should find fresh, well-rested horses…"

The younger America nodded. "Right, come on…"

(-)

After changing their horses, and getting several hours' rest for themselves, England and the younger America set out early the following morning. Much like they had done yesterday, England quietly followed the younger America.

They rode for several hours, finally stopping in the mid-afternoon for rest and food. Stopping to dismount under some trees on the side of the road, the younger America shared his rations again, and he and England ate and rested in silence for a bit.

"How close are we to catching them?" England asked.

The younger America shrugged. "The scouts only gave an approximation of where they were, and that was a couple of days ago," he said. "I can only guess as to how far they've moved since then. They're on foot, so…"

He looked off into the distance, thinking.

"I think we'll catch them tomorrow; possibly the day after that if they've been moving fast."

"Good."

Finally, I can find America and get us out of here. We've been stuck here for too long as it is…

Their break over, England and the younger America mounted up once more. When they stopped again, the sun was on its way down, and they needed to rest for the night. This time, however, there was no town nearby; just a farmhouse. After the younger America spoke with him, the owner was kind enough to provide lodging for the two nations.

The next morning, after breakfast, the two nations went on the move once more. Not long into the ride, the younger America slowed up a bit, and turned his head slightly to speak to England.

"They're probably not far now," he said. "That means we'll have to be careful. You should probably ride ahead and find them, then double back, and we'll figure out how to get my older self out of there without us being caught."

England nodded and took the lead.

By noon, he came to a halt. He had not yet found the small British force, but he figured they weren't too far away; he and the younger America could afford a short break for lunch. He dismounted, and was presently joined by the younger America. They shared travel rations again.

"They're probably less than a day's ride ahead of us now, right?" England asked.

The younger America nodded. "We've been riding quite fast. At the pace we've been riding, we should be right behind them," he said. He finished the last piece of his food. "Let's go."

Less than a minute later, England and the younger America were back on their horses.

They stopped briefly once again in the evening. There was still no sign of their quarry.

"Maybe I was mistaken… they've been moving faster than I thought…" the younger America said.

"Come on, they can't be that far away," England said. He kept riding, leaving the younger America with little choice but to follow.

England kept riding until well after the sun had gone down. Finally, the younger America stopped him.

"We can't see anything," he said. "We'd better stop before we accidentally stumble right into their camp."

Reluctantly, England came to a halt. He dismounted, and he and the younger America called it a night.

Early the next morning, England got up, ate quickly, and mounted his horse. He and the younger America were on the move again in very short order. Unfortunately, this day went the same way as the previous one. The younger England's force was nowhere to be found.

Where the hell are they?!

"I thought you said we were close to catching them," England said, trying to hide his frustration, but only partially succeeding.

"I thought we were too!" the younger America said. He paused, then added, "They must have taken a different route, or we would have found them by now."

"What other routes are there?" England asked.

The younger America shook his head.

"We can't go investigating every single one; we're almost certain to miss them if we do that," he said, shooting down England's idea before he even got a chance to voice it.

England thought carefully for a minute.

"Well, I think I have a good idea where he plans on going," he said. "We can still intercept them, if we beat them to their destination."

"Where is he going?" the younger America asked.

"General Clinton is up in the New York colony," England replied. "My younger self is probably going to rendezvous with him."

The younger America's eyebrows shot up.

"Are you suggesting we ride all the way to New York and sneak into Clinton's camp?" he asked incredulously. "Would that even work? Are you absolutely certain that's where your younger self is even going?"

"It makes the most sense," England said confidently. "Remember, my younger self thinks he's captured you, and is going to try to force Washington's surrender. Washington is up in New York, but so is Clinton. There's no way my younger self could force a surrender with the tiny force he's currently got; he needs to meet up with the main army, under the command of one of his top generals."

"So…" the younger America began, but trailed off, looking contemplative.

His face lit up suddenly, and he snapped his fingers.

"I have an idea," he said.

"Oh?" England said, giving the younger America a curious look.

"We'll have to move quickly, so we beat your younger self to New York," the younger America said. "But, if I can talk to Washington before your younger self sends a demand for surrender, then his plan will be completely shot, right? At the same time, you can sneak right into the British camp. You'll get the older me back, and I'll still win the war."

England sighed. It's a better strategy than hoping to find my younger self out here in the countryside, and I did suggest it...

"Alright."

As if somehow invigorated by the new plan, the younger America took off with his horse at a canter. England followed.

The younger America was not joking when he had said to move quickly. For the next several days, the two nations rode at an even faster pace than they had taken previously. As a result, they ended up changing horses much more often, but eventually, about a week later, they finally crossed the New York border.

(-)

Norway, Romania and Canada were back in the alley by ten o'clock the following morning. Searching through his satchel full of spellbooks, Norway quickly located the one he was looking for. The satchel lay on the ground nearby the wall, while Norway brought his spellbook with him to the middle of the alley.

While Norway flipped through the pages of his spellbook, Romania sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. In his lap was a sketchbook, and he was trying to redraw the incantation circle they'd found the night before. Canada sat next to Romania, showing him the pictures on his phone as a reference. Half an hour later, Romania stood up, holding the finished drawing in his hand.

"Norway!" he said.

Norway abruptly looked up from his spellbook. "Yes?"

Romania walked over and showed his sketch to the other nation.

"I think this is what that circle looked like," Romania said. "What do you make of it?"

Norway examined the drawing carefully, resting one hand on his chin, and furrowing his brow. Occasionally, his lips would move, as if he were muttering to himself.

"A teleportation spell," he finally said loud enough for the other two nations to hear.

"So, he just teleported himself and America somewhere?" Canada asked. "That might explain why they've disappeared, but… if that's the case, then why can't we reach their phones?"

"Depending on their destination, the spell may have affected their phones," Norway replied.

Canada frowned. "How?" he asked. "Even if they ended up somewhere with no cell service, their numbers shouldn't have changed."

Norway waved Canada over. Confused, Canada went and stood next to the Nordic nation.

"A teleportation spell can be constructed several ways," Norway began. "The simplest versions can instantly transport the caster anyplace he chooses."

Canada arched an eyebrow. "And the more complex versions?"

"Other, more complicated versions," Norway continued. "Can transport the caster anywhen he chooses."

"Time travel?" Canada asked, his eyes going wide.

Norway nodded.

"Unfortunately, magic is complicated enough as it is, but playing with time as well throws in a million other factors that, in reality, are just opportunities to royally screw something up," Romania chimed in. "Even someone as experienced as England could make a mistake."

Canada's face fell.

"If they've been teleported to a different time, how are we supposed to find them?" he asked.

Norway gestured to his spellbook.

"I have an idea," he said, showing Canada the page of the spell he was going to use. "This is where you come in."

Canada looked at the page, but none of it made any sense to him. He looked back at Norway, confusion still written all over his face.

"What do you want me to do?" Canada asked.

Romania reached into the pocket of his coat, and Norway shot him a warning glare.

"Let me explain it first," Norway said.

Norway returned his attention to Canada, muttering something about vampires under his breath. He cleared his throat and began with the explanation.

"This spell I've got here should help us find them," Norway began. "But, I need a small sample of your blood in order for it to work."

"What?" Canada suddenly looked apprehensive. "How will that help?"

"It serves as a focus for the spell that I will use to try to locate England and America," Norway explained. "You're America's twin; the blood will find its own."

"Okay."

Canada wasn't quite sure what that meant, but he figured Norway knew what he was doing. At this point, Norway finally allowed Romania to take the item out of his pocket. It turned out to be a small knife, and Romania gestured for Canada to show him his hand.

Canada held up his left hand, and Romania made a small nick on Canada's finger, holding the knife in place while drops of blood collected on the blade. While he did that, Norway put his book down, took out some chalk, and began drawing an incantation circle. When he finished, he took the knife from Romania and held it over the circle, allowing the blood to drop onto the concrete within the circle. Handing the knife back, Norway then picked up his book, stood in the center of the circle and began chanting.

For a minute, nothing seemed to be happening. It seemed like Norway had finished chanting, but there was only a brief pause before he turned several pages in his spellbook, and started chanting again.

The second time, when Norway stopped, the circle lit up with a bluish glow. In the space within the circle, a pale mist appeared. It was very thin; however, and after a few seconds, an image of the inside of a building started to fill the space around the three nations. The mist dissipated, and the image came into slightly sharper focus.

The image looked like the inside of someone's study. Judging by design of the carpet and furniture, it looked like eighteenth-century colonial style. A few feet in front of Norway was a chair and a writing desk; standing in front of the desk was a person. He had blond hair that was just under shoulder-length, and most of it was being kept back in a ponytail.

Romania approached the figure, looking over his shoulder at the items on the desk. Canada and Norway stayed where they were, watching the figure.

"I don't think that's America," Canada said. "The clothes and hair are all wrong…"

The figure picked up one of the pieces of paper on the desk and folded it up, placing it in an envelope. He sealed it and pocketed it, then turned around.

This definitely wasn't America. While he certainly looked almost identical to America, the long curl of hair that hung by itself in front of the man's face was a clear indicator. This was Canada's younger self.

Norway ran a hand through his hair.

"Oops…"

The image of the younger Canada walked right through Norway, headed for the door behind him. He opened the door and left the room. As if there were some sort of camera tracking him, Norway, Romania and Canada were able to see where the younger Canada was going. The younger Canada eventually went outside, where there was a courier waiting on a horse next to the gate.

The image vanished suddenly. Romania and Canada shot questioning glances at Norway.

"That's not what I wanted," Norway said sheepishly. "But, that's probably my fault. I did say the blood would 'find its own'. So it did."

Romania arched an eyebrow. "How do we fix this, so the magic finds what we're actually looking for?"

"Give me a moment…"

Norway spent several minutes looking through his spellbook and muttering to himself. Eventually, he picked up the chalk and made some modifications to the circle. Putting the chalk away, Norway tried casting his spell again.

Just like the previous attempt, the circle lit up and the mist appeared. When the mist dissipated this time, however, no image appeared in its place.

"What the…"

Flustered, Norway slammed his book shut and stepped out of the circle. For a minute, he stood there, staring intently at the ground.

Canada cleared his throat.

"Um, what happened?" he asked.

"The magic couldn't find its target," Norway replied.

"What does that mean?"

There was a short pause.

"I have to have done something wrong…" Norway said.

Canada started to look worried. "Can you fix it?"

Norway sighed, opening his book again.

"I can try."