"Who am I?" The man's question rang in the boys ears, and he struggled to think clearly. The boy opened his mouth to say he didn't know, but the answer came to him, almost like an instinct rather than a thought. "You're Canada." For a moment he thought he heard France and England's and America's voices in his head, saying that name multiple times, thousands of times in different tones, different ways, different situations. For a moment it felt as though he was sitting in a hospital bed, and a familiar face was telling him "You are Canada." The moment faded as quickly as it came, and he met the other's gaze. Canada, wore an expression of amazement, and happiness, and a sad knowing look.
"That's right." He said, wonderingly. "Im Canada." The boy could tell, somewhere inside, that Canada too had heard the same voices. A series of emotions crossed Canada's face, ranging from shock, to happiness, to sorrow, and finally settling on a resigned look with a weary smile dripping with pain. Finally, the man caught the child's eyes. "Thank you." he said simply. "Then can I ask you something else?" The boy nodded, swallowing as though to clear his dry throat. The next question came like a blow to the boy.
"Who are you?" His stomach churned. He wanted to say that he too, was Canada, but memories flooded through him. Memories from a time long ago, before England, or America, before the man with the glasses had ever existed. Memories of a time when he was alone, and then, memories of meeting France. He swayed unsteadily on his feet, but Canada pressed him for an answer. "Who are you?" he demanded. The words escaped from the boy before he could recognize them, or react to them. "Je suis Nouvelle France."
No sooner were these words spoken, then a large cracking noise, like a giant glass shattering was heard. New France looked to Canada for assurance, for assistance, but he was already up to his shoulders in sand, being swallowed up by the infite grains while New France was distracted. Canada shook his head. It wasn't the hourglass that had broken. New France followed his gaze, looking upwards. The blinding white that was the sky was breaking, cracks forming their way across it, and as New France watched, a large white piece fell, shattering as it hit the white floor nearby, and cracks spread across the floor as well. A scream tore from his throat before he could stop it.
Canada was up to his neck in sand now, and he spoke desperately. "Something has broken, and it can't be fixed." the ground was crumbling arround them as he spoke. "You're not who you were. Become someone new." As the words were hurriedly spoken, the sand covered Canada's chin. He spat one last sentence. "I hope we meet again someday. Now go!" and as the sand covered Canada's mouth, the ground fell from beneath the boy, and he was falling. Somewhere out of the crumbling white an animal seemed to appear, changing shape from a large white bear to something smaller, something winged. As its claws connected with the boy's arms, everything went black.
