Present; December 2nd 2018

The wind whistled through the trees, ravens cawed, and snow blew. What a Russian winter. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he retrieved his white gloves, pulling them on.

"And yet you wonder why you get sick often." Einar stated, smirking slightly. Sam scoffed.

"Just because I go outside in the snow with only a sweater on, doesn't mean I get sick from THAT." He replied simply, hiking his scarf up. Sigmund and Fabian snorted from beside Einar. "…What?" He shot a joking glare at the two. The Norweigian let out a soft laugh.

"That is the exact reason you are sick, you American fool." Sam gasped and gave a fake look of insult.

"I am no American!" Sam growled, though the effect was lost after he burst out laughing along with the others.

"Good one, bro." Fabian gasped out between laughs.

"What are you guys on about?" They all stopped laughing as Ivan came into focus, a childish smile upon his face.

"…Nothin'." Einar and Sigmund said at the same time. Ivan shook his head lightly, chuckling, and dissapeared back inside. Sam fumbled with his necklace, which hung loosly around his neck. His skin was incredibly pale, but deeply scarred, and he was missing an eye, which he covered with an eyepatch. His right are used to be color blind, but he had had a surgery and several medications to fix that.

"Hey guys!" Serra Terrace appeared from out of the trees, holding a bag of steaming McDonalds.

"Serra!" They all said together, leaping up and practically decending upon her for the hamburgers and fries. She chuckled and shook her head.

"You bunch of wolves!" Fabian looked up, still chewing vigurously.

"We may be wolves, but you're the hyena who feeds us." Serra squinted his brown eyes.

"Ha ha, very funny, Fabby." She purred evily, enjoying the priceless face the Faroese man put on.

"…Fabby…" Einar mumbled.

"…Fabby the flabby!" Sigmund yelled out suddenly.

"Oi! Don't you DARE call me that!"

Sam shook his head along with Serra, both of them hiding their smirks.

…

Soon they reached the small village they lived in. All of them were happy to be home, except the orphan. He trailed behind several men, asking to stay with them, his hope slowly drained from those sparkly violet eyes. Berwald sighed.

"B'y. C'me h're…" He called to him. The orphan skidded his way over to him, stoping in front of the viking. "…N' one w'nts t' t'ke y' in?" The boy shook his head. "…Y' c'n st'y with me f'r now…" He blinked as the boy let out a gasp and hugged him.

"Thank you !" The viking twitched slightly and looked away, a hint of color to his cheeks.

He opened the door to his house, gesturing the boy inside. It struck him…he didn't know the boy's name…

"…Wh't's yer' n'me, boy?" He asked, his eyes flicking around as he reached for some wood, throwing it in the fireplace and lit it with some flint. The boy's violet eyes shone brightly in the firelight.

"My name is Tino, sir….Tino Väinämöinen…" Berwald raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't th't Finnish?" Tino nodded and looked around the house. The viking contemplated the boy's features. He was yellow-blonde, with normal sized purple eyes, a rare eye color, and wore a necklace with a cross charm hanging off it. "…How old 're y'? He asked. Tino blinked.

"I'm fifteen, sir…" Berwald nodded and walked off into another room.

"We're g'ing t' h've t' sh're a bed…" He mumbled, coughing. Tino shrugged.

"I don't mind…" The boy whispered, though loud enough for Berwald to hear. The viking blushed lightly and through a scowl at the mirror beside him. He squinted at a piece of hair that was almost sticking straight up, reaching up and flattening it out. Tino licked his finger and went on his tip toes, smoothing down the hair. "There ya go!" Berwald blushed even heavier.

"T-th'nk y'…" He scowled at himself internally for getting so flustered. Tino yawned, his eyes dulling slightly. "…Y' tired?" The viking asked, trying to get his blush to go away. Tino nodded and blinked wetness out of his eyes. The Swede picked the boy up, sighing, and layed him down on the bed, kepping his face serious. "Sl'pp w'll." Once Tino was deeply asleep, he blew out the candles and turned to look over his house.

SLAM

"Sir! Invaders are coming!" He whipped around and motioned the man closer.

"Look 'fter Tino." He pointed to his room. The man nodded and Berwald stormed out of the house, eyes narrowed, face looking rather intimidating. His eyes scanned the horizons, grabbing his staff, holding it close to him. He trusted this weapon. He had been given it when he was small. Like Tino, he had been an orphan. No mother, no father. His childhood was pretty much lonely and dark, but he turned out rather peacefull…unlike others…

…

Serra waved to them.

"Bye guys!" She ran off into the forest, soon dissapearing out of sight. Einar sighed, hanging his head.

"It's sad her parents are divorcing…yet she stays happy like that." Fabian shrugged.

"Some people look at the bright side. Unlike emo over there." The Faroese man pointed at Sam. Sam scoffed.

"I'm not emo. Besides…emo means emotional. We're all emotional, thank you. How about you Sigmund?" The Norweigian looked up, yawning.

"I'm . Hey, Sam? Can I sleep over?" The North American nodded. "Thanks, ol' buddy ol' pal." He dragged himself into the house, eyes squinted, then came running back out. "A thought just came to me. I was to see your attic." Sam raised an eyebrow.

"…eh. Why not?" He murmured. The three bows followed Sam into the attic, holding flashlights. Sigmund beamed at some old photos. They all gathered around the photo albums. The Norweigian opened it up, instantly chuckling.

"It's…us. All the old photos…Oh god. It's the mall photo." Sam, Einar, Sigmund, and Fabian all stood in the photobooth, crammed agianst each other. The Icelandic's face was pressed aganst the camera screen, Fabian's eyes were wide and his nose was red, Sam's bangs fell over his eyes, shadowing the man, givng off an eerie look, and Sigmund was laughing his butt off.

"…I was so young then, eh? I was what…a hundred and fifteen?" The three nodded and Sam sighed. "You guys treated me like I was five." He grumbled. Fabian ruffled his hair.

"No. We treated you like our brother."