for reference:

Emil - Iceland

Matthias - Denmark

Nikolaus - Norway

C H A P T E R T H R E E

• ENGLAND }} arthur •

Did I still have it on me? Please, please, please have it on me.

Nope. No cellphone.

Guess I'll have to buy another new one.

At least Russia had supplied me with clothes. Kind of. Well, he didn't say no. It's hard to do that when your bones are reshaping to form a wolf's skeletal structure.

They were a little big, but I'd even found some change in one of the pockets. I stumbled to a payphone, feeling jumpy and queasy after shifting again. Shoving a few American quarters into the phone, I lifted it and listened for the dial tone before punching in a few hastily remembered numbers.

Pick up. Pick up, please, please pick up. Ple-

"Hello…?" The voice was soft; hushed, like it shouldn't be heard.

I hit the wall with my fist softly, needing to channel the wave of relief that just dragged me under. "Toris."

"Arthur." He responded. He sounded almost as relieved. "Where have you been?"

"I-uh, long story, and I am quite sorry for the interruption, but I need you to come pick me up."

"What, leave the middle of the meeting to come get you? Everyone wants to know where you've been. I'll be asked too many questions. And where's Russia?" I could hear the worry in his voice.

I bit my lip. "Sorry, even longer story. I will tell you later. Just-get me a ride!" And then, softer. "I don't think I'll last much longer today."

"Okay." He knew. "I'll g-uh-oh, Greece is looking this way. I think he noticed. Maybe he's still asleep. Um.. anyways, I'll get someone."

"Fast." I groaned, hanging the telephone and stepping a little ways to a street bench before plopping down on it.

Light clouds hid the sun, but they looked thin, like it could burst through any moment.

Stay away, please.

So many 'pleases' today, Arthur. I needed the cold to stay with me. I'd go to a meat locker if I could. I'd drown myself in arctic waters. I just need this twinge in my gut to go away. It was getting old.

Now that I've called Toris, I have a few minutes to myself, at the very least.

If I had been a normal person, I don't suppose I would have ever thought that someday, I would be a werewolf. I probably wouldn't have thought that I would be a country, either, though.

It had all happened so fast – isn't that what they always say? I can see why, now. 'It' is that dreaded noun that stands for every horrible thing that's ever happened to someone. 'It' always does happen very fast. So fast you barely remember it.

It wasn't supposed to happen. It was an accident, Toris said. Sometimes you just shifted, caused by stress or relief or heat or a dangerous situation.

In all honesty, it was probably more so my fault than Toris's. I knew what alcohol did to me. It altered reality completely. I've sworn it off, now; the risk is too great. What if I shifted in a bar? Well, now that I think about it, that's the best place to shift. Everyone's drunk anyways, so it's not a big deal!

I don't remember anything of that night, not even being bitten, or seeing Toris shift. I just remember a few fleeting moments of being wolf before waking up naked with a hangover next to Toris and a small russet wolf. I could barely catch what Toris was blubbering about before a human shot out of the wolf's skin, revealing Latvia.

So horrible. Sometimes I can't fall asleep because I'm stuck with those images. Lithuania explained to us, then, what had happened and that it was now our problem as well.

I don't think much of the beat-up white van that pulled up in front of me before the driver hits the horn and I jump at the sound. The windows are tinted, so I can't see who's driving, but I don't hesitate to wrench open the door and slide into the front seat. Cold air conditioning blasts into my face, sending a shiver down my spine but relaxing me enough for me to breathe a sigh of relief. I was in good hands, now.

"'Sup, Arthur. Good thing the awesome me came to bail you out, huh?"

Oh, yeah. Good thing. Great thing. I turned to see Gilbert grinning at me while he drove, scarlet eyes shifting between the road and me before settling on me with a mischievous glint in them.

"Keep your eyes on the road." I snapped.

He rolled his eyes and watched me for a few more moments before turning back to the streets he navigated. "Ah, that's right. I guess you would rather have a hero rescue you."

I raised an eyebrow and shot a scathing look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" I gritted my teeth.

He shrugged. "Whatever you take it as."

This would be a lovely ride.

•••

• FINLAND }} tino •

Although tens of thousands of kilometers away from home, it's easy to imagine you're not too far if you keep your eyes on the sky. It spreads from here in America to Europe to Asia all the way down to Australia, and back again. It is something that is everywhere; that spans and connects us no matter what.

If you take your eyes off of the sky to your surroundings, it is too easy to point out the differences. Sometimes you don't always want that. You just want to revel in the time and place you are in, without worry or judgment.

It was so easy to forget where you were, what you were doing, and who you were when you lost yourself in the sky. Clouds hung from it at the moment, chugging along and letting the sun peek from it every so often. Far away on the horizon I could see the silhouettes of buildings.

Where was he?

I've been here for a week, in Vermont. Once arriving with the other Nordics we rented a cabin to stay at. We had it under our name for the next few weeks, a vacation for us so we could unwind. I don't think I'll be able to, but it will be quiet with four people in our cabin instead of the original five.

Maybe he'll sho-

"Tino?"

It was like stopping in a speeding car; the person's voice cut me short like a seatbelt, pulling me away from the sky and halting my thoughts. I glanced over to the few people that were waiting for me, and realized that the meeting had officially ended for today. There were only a few countries lingering, besides my friends.

"It's time to leave." He said quietly, and held out a hand for me to take.

I smiled sheepishly and didn't take it, scooting out my chair and standing up. My bones felt stiff after sitting for so long.

"Sorry," I breathed, gathering my messenger bag and slipping underneath it. They were a quiet bunch, and they didn't ask questions. It was nice.

I fell in pace with Emil, behind Nikolaus and Matthias. The two of them were arguing about something, like usual. My lips twitched upward in a small, sad smile. Even though he wasn't here, nothing much had changed.

That seemed wrong.

Maybe the other countries knew where he was. The thought had run through my head several times, and I mulled it over. He told me he was visiting Germany that day, to discuss exports. That must be it; Germany would know where to find him! Germany was such an organized person, there was no doubt he would remember.

"Excuse me for a moment," I said to Emil, who gave me a blank stare before nodding. I turned and stepped quickly towards the European nation, before remembering why I had hesitated to talk to him in the first place. Germany was much alike Berwald, but I didn't have much experience talking with him, making him even more intimidating than my missing-in-action friend.

But Italy, his lackey, was right next to him, and it dawned on me that he would probably have been there too. Germany himself was a little over-bearing, but with the childish Italian clinging to him all the time, it made him that much friendlier.

"Ve~! It's Tino!" Italy called once he saw me. I smiled at him and approached them.
"Hello," I said.

Germany looked down at me, a glint of surprise in his eyes. I didn't speak to him directly very often. "Hello to you, Finland.."

I cleared my voice. "Have you seen Sweden lately?"

Germany looked as impassive as ever. Italy had discarded his friendly face, and looked more like his protector or his brother than himself.

I backtracked. "I-I mean… You might not have, but he's been gone for a while.. You-of course, you might not have anything to do with it – not that anything happened to him! – but I know he went to visit you on Tuesday…I think… no? Maybe not… I mean… I think that's what he said…I-" Shut up, Tino, I told myself. You're rambling.

"You are looking for Sweden?" Germany stated. It was meant to be a question, but it sounded like a statement.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to be steady.

"Ve~…" Italy breathed, before glancing up at Germany. The man ignored him.

"I haven't seen him." He deadpanned, before walking away.

Italy was left staring at me. It looked like he was going to start bursting crying.

"Oh.. Okay. That's fine!" I whispered after him, watching his figure pass the other Nordics, who were watching me.

"Tino." Italy put his hand on my shoulder, like he was comforting me. For someone with tears in the corner of his eyes, this seemed like an odd thing to do. I turned to him.
"I'm sure Berwald's fine, right?" He said. "He's probably just… sight-seeing! Yep. America has many monuments to visit in the East. He's probably looking around."

I frowned. "Without us? Without telling us? He's not that kind of person. I don't know what happened to him, or where I can fi-"

Italy interrupted me, and I was so shocked I didn't say anything.

"Don't go looking for him, Tino. He's fine. I'm sure he'll be back real soon. Just… wait for him to find you. Don't look for him."

Then Italy turned and ran away, just like that.

Confused and shaken, I walked back to my neighbors and left the building with them. The walls blended around me, nothing registering and leaving me with something to remember it by.

Matthias looked over his shoulder at me in the lobby. "What did Germany and Italy say?"

They hadn't heard, I realized. They hadn't asked any questions until then, so I thought they'd already heard. I guess they were just quiet. I blinked at him, before forming an intelligent response. "Nothing much."

"That's too bad." He said. He didn't sound very upset about it. His voice was laced with falsity.

That seemed wrong. They all should have been upset by his disappearance. Something like a rock landed in my gut, and I frowned at the back of his head angrily, ridiculing his stupid hairdo from behind.

How could he not be worried about Berwald?

Was I the only one who cared about him?

•••

haha, here's chapter three! Merry Christmas, everyone! :D

btw, Fin doesn't hate Den. x3 I hope I didn't make it seem like that.

- Chat