DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers Hidekaz Himaruya

THE CALL OF THE WILD


PART THREE

WANDERLUST

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Part Three is set two months after the end of Part Two. It is an M-rated story.

CAST OF CHARACTERS (in order of appearance):

AMERICA — Alfred Kirkland

IRELAND — Patrick Kirkland

CANADA — Matthew Kirkland

NORTH IRELAND — Liam Kirkland

PRUSSIA — Gilbert Beilschmidt-Kirkland

SCOTLAND — Allistor (Scott) Kirkland

FRANCE — Francis Bonnefoi-Kirkland

ENGLAND — Arthur Kirkland

RUSSIA - Ivan Braginsky-Kirkland

WALES — Owen Kirkland

DENMARK — Mikkel Densen

SWEDEN — Berwald Oxenstierna

NORWAY — Bjørn Thomassen

FINLAND — Tino Väinämöinen

FAROE ISLANDS — Andrias Densen

ICELAND — Emil Densen

GREENLAND — Kujâk Densen

SEALAND — Peter Oxenstierna


PROLOGUE

THE ISLES

A boat sat beached on the rocks, the likes of which Alfred Kirkland had never seen. It was too short and stout to be a warship, but too big to be a mere river vessel. It had a thick mast and a sail of tough cloth, a shallow haul, and gently curving sides that peaked at the bow and stern, taking the shape of two great wolves' heads. It was a beautiful exhibition of northern craftsmanship, salt-weathered or not. Cautiously, the young Omega scout rubbed his fingers across the sanded wood, noting how the earthy paints had been washed by saltwater. Inside the boat stretched half-a-dozen benches and oars, but there was no cargo, no supplies, and no sign of life except for a blackened fire-pit and a mural of grey charcoal pictures. They looked like the amateur scribbles of a pup, depicting what Alfred guessed were ships and stars and a host of unnatural creatures. One large pictograph showed several figures: four adults and four pups. Not a crew of raiders then, Alfred thought. (Not even the brutish Northerners would take pups on a raid, right?) Settlers then. He stood back and surveyed the landing site, but he saw no evidence of which way the crew had gone. They had been very careful. The boat, itself, was well-hidden in a shallow inlet flanked by high cliffs, and Alfred wouldn't have found it if his ears hadn't guided him to the place. He had heard water sloshing against the wood. His sensitive Omega ears were one of the reasons he made such a good scout, because the wind carried sounds just as well as it carried scents.

"Al," called Patrick, climbing the ridge. "What have your ears found, little nephew?"

Alfred frowned at his uncle. "That's second-in-command," he corrected indignantly.

Patrick reached him and ruffled his flyaway hair. "Second-in-command in-training," he teased. He was only ten years older than Alfred, a cheeky twenty-five to his two nephews' fifteen, and had always been more of a friend than a parental figure to the young Omegas.

"It's a Northern vessel," he needlessly reported, eyeing the boat, "built for trade. See the hutches in the deck? They're for storing cargo. Have you searched it?"

"I was just about to," said Alfred, embarrassed that he hadn't noticed the trapdoors in the deck. He climbed aboard as Patrick inspected the sides.

"It's been sitting here for a while. A couple of weeks, at least," he said. "The keel is covered in barnacles and salt, and it's dug a trench in the beach, shifted by the tides. It wouldn't be sitting like this if it were heavy with cargo. I don't expect our new friends left much behind when they came ashore."

Alfred admired the practiced way that Patrick scoured the boat, pointing to telltale details he wouldn't have otherwise noticed.

"I think it's a family boat," he said, hoping to impress Patrick as the Alpha leapt aboard. "See this picture?"

"A rich family then. This isn't a fishing boat, Al. He's either someone really important, or he's a bloody thief," Patrick said, tapping his knuckles against one of the bigger charcoal figures.

"Why do you think he's the leader?" Alfred asked, squinting at the broad lines.

"Because this boat was crafted in the North-West, not the North-East, and this fellow's got the wolf head on his cloak, see? It matches the wolf heads on the bow and stern. The other Alpha"—he pointed to the other big figure—"has a handsome pair of antlers over his head, that's a symbol of the North-East."

"Those are antlers? I thought he just had a really bad hair style," Alfred shrugged.

Patrick chuckled. "You think you were a better artist as a wee pup? 'Cause I'll tell you right now, you weren't. It's a testament of pure love that your parents kept all the scribbles you and Mattie gave them."

Alfred frowned.

"Look, happy family pack or not, it's important that we find these strangers," Patrick said, exiting the boat. "The clan-laws are clear about foreigners who aren't pair-bonded to clan-members. They're dangerous. There are no settlers on the Isles," he said resolutely, making the Isles sound more like our Isles. "There are only squatters and invaders. And if these Northerners think they can sail in and steal our land, they're wrong."

That said, he started back up the steep incline.

Alfred stayed aboard for a moment, urging his eyes and ears and nose to reveal the boat's secrets. If he was going to succeed his sire and become the pack's second-in-command one day, he needed to prove himself worthy of the title. He couldn't read or do sums well enough to be of administrative use, but he could hone his scouting skills; he could learn to read signs and acts instead of letters; and he could train in the arts of reconnaissance and information gathering. This was his homeland, after all, not Gilbert's, which was partially why the pack-leader-to-be had chosen Alfred as his second. Because if Gilbert ever wanted to be accepted as more than a usurper of the Islander pack, he would need Alfred's knowledge and connection to the pack and the land itself. No foreign invader would ever outwit the Kirklands on their own turf.

And yet, the Northerner's boat didn't feel like a craft of invasion. It felt like a nest.

He saw the proud, snarling wolf heads that growled power, but he also saw the pup's pictures, already faded by a fortnight of sun and salt and rain. He wondered how old the artist was, how long he had lived on the boat for, and why two Alphas from rival clans had shared a journey across the sea?

"Why did you come here?" he whispered into the wind.

Then he leapt down onto the rocky beach and followed Patrick up the slope.