I...completely threw away history. Don't even try to compare. In reality, the English and French came at near the same time, and Sweden was there, and the Nordics-But shhh, artistic license.
A year later, Gaho was whisked away from Helaku. It was in broad daylight, and under Helaku's horrified gaze, she disappeared and reappeared in time to see a man touch her soil with his foot, jumping out of a longboat.
He was golden-haired like France - pale like him too - and had green eyes. Green eyes like the demon. His brows were heavy and as he stared at her, she felt dread crawl up her spine. She gripped a branch for support. He seemed younger, less sure of himself, and more innocent. France had seemed harmless. Now France had Canada.
As he stretched out a hand to do-something, she didn't know- she disappeared to Helaku. He had still been staring at the place she'd disappeared. When she reappeared, he threw himself forward and hugged her knees.
"D-Don't do that again!" he cried. Gaho patted him on the head.
"Of course not, little one."
Helaku's memories started to fall away like downy feathers from a young bird. Suddenly he gave the signs Kajika had shown-confusion, suddenly staring east.
Gaho did her damndest to destroy the colony at Jamestown-but in vain. Her people no longer knew who she was. Even though they knew she was an other, they turned away. They helped the colonists.
Another batch of Englishmen (that's what they called themselves) landed at what they called Plymouth. Gaho, straining herself to the very limits with tending to her people and caring for Helaku and trying to drive off the foreigners that Helaku
Slipped
Through.
His hair became blonde.
When she saw him, Gaho screamed. "No!"
She fell to her knees, ran her hands through Helaku's hair as if trying to stain it ink-black like it used to be.
"No! No! No!" Crying, screaming, Gaho cursed the gods, and then the foreigners, the black-hearted devils.
Suddenly her heart, which had been steadily cracking throughout Canada's change, shattered. It was enough that one child had been taken away, but both? Were the gods so cruel?
"Gaho! Please, don't-" cried Helaku, hanging on to her, shuddering. Gaho saw the raw fear in his eyes. His worst nightmare was coming true-he would be separated.
Then, he stopped shaking. His hands came back from around her waist. He looked up at her uncomprehendingly.
"Who are you? Are you okay?"
She stumbled away.
Helaku kept looking at her with those big, horribly vacant eyes.
"Who are you?"
Gaho quickly wiped her eyes.
"S-stay. I bring clothes." she stuttered out in broken English.
Helaku beamed.
"Sure!"
She bought the white nightgown, blue ribbon, and loincloth. The woman who sold them spat at her feet, cursing her.
Gaho felt like screaming at the woman, I have lost my last son! He will never remember me! He will forever be doomed to be foreign in his own land!
Instead, she quietly thanked her and slipped out of the door, making her way back to Helaku.
No.
What was it that that man had called this place?
America.
When the Europeans finally found him, they bickered. Gaho, perched in a tree, had to bite her lip to keep from screaming profanities, or crying, or throwing something at them as they compared themselves to America.
Dully, she kept her vigil until finally England won out. Seeing the innocence and joy on her son's face, Gaho retreated into the trees, never looking back.