Doggy Days

Chapter 4

Romania impatiently tapped his paw against the stoney steps that lead up to England's front door. The house behind him was a total mess; half of the roof had caved in, doors were torn off their hinges, windows were shattered and shards of glass lied all around the exterior of the building. His nose caught the lingering scent of smoke and cinder from deep within the house. For about the tenth time that day since he arrived at England's place, Romania inhaled deeply, forgetting that the smoke from the demolished house was still lingering in the air, and he sneezed violently.

The dog's shoulders hunched. How long was he to wait here? When was that annoying Briton going to show up? Slowly, inch by inch, Romania lowered himself into a sphinx-styled position on the steps. The wind blew through the mid-morning sky above, rustling the remaining leaves on the trees closest to the house. The Romanian's green top hat stayed atop his head as if it emitted some magical force that kept it from being tilted even by the slightest breeze. The hat had even stayed on Romania's person when he had been transformed into a dog a few hours earlier that day. Instead of immediately freaking out and trying to reverse the spell himself, the country representative decided that he'd go to the only person who he knew was capable of doing such a thing as this when they were nowherenear his home.

England.

Also know as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Also know as the man who was responsible for changing Romania into a dog.

Of course, England wasn't at home at the time but Romania thought that he wouldn't be gone for long; if he had succeeded in changing the sharp tooth country into a pooch, then he more than likely managed to do the same thing to himself. A chuckle came from Romania's throat as he envisioned a tiny England-terrier running around in his basement as he tried to find the right potions to mix together for an antidote and yipping out curses in a high pitched voice.

However, since he was not home, Romania was sure England had went off to find some more ingredients to make an elixir to cure himself.

And Romania wanted in on the reverse potion.

He was so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed that a lone dog was trotting up the paved walkway. "I expected to find you here."

Romania's crimson eyes glanced up to see the source of the voice: a short-haired dog with dark brown fur. Though the dog's mouth was closed and his facial expression was calm, Romania could see that his grey-green eyes were smiling.

"Bulgaria," he said, feeling his lips curl into a smile. "Long time no see, huh?" His friend nodded and hurried up to the other dog. Romania's cheeky grin immediately grew into a wide smirk once he was able to get a closer look at Bulgaria. Suppressing a laugh, he said, "Nice mustache you've got there," and let out a quiet snicker. Bulgaria's face fell and he rolled his eyes. "Haha. That's soo funny, Romania."

Bulgaria moved over to his left and sat down on the step below the other dog, facing the path he had just walked up. By the door, Romania bought his forepaws together, laid his shaggy head on them and stretched out his hind legs into a more comfortable position. Strawberry-blond tipped fur from his head fell into his eyes and the dog gave an inwardly sigh. Romania had thought that being a dog wasn't going to be so bad at first. When he had awoken on the floor, staring at the carpet underneath his dresser, he had thought nothing of it - though it wasn't everyday that he woke up on the...he never woke up on the floor.

He should've thought something of it.

What really threw him into thinking something was off was when he tried to stand on two legs. A few minutes later Romania discovered that he was a large shaggy dog, but he was excited to find out that his senses had heightened and he could actually see in color! Wait until he proved America wrong. He still wanted his human body back, however, since it is extremely hard for one to open a door or unlatch a window when they had paws in replace of hands. Luckily the country representative was still able to wield magic.

Romania noticed Bulgaria suddenly sitting up out of the corner of his eye. The thinner dog's eyes were opened to their fullest as he looked ahead at something off in the distance and his nose twitched automatically as it tried to pick up the approachers' scent.

Romania raised his eyebrows at his friend, then he looked ahead to see what Bulgaria was staring at. A pretty good piece down the path were four silhouettes shaped like canines heading toward England's house. Romania didn't seem too upset about the newcomers - he thought that they were just some other nations who happened to be affected by England's spell, too. "Relax," he said to the dog beside him, who had gotten to his feet but remained in an unsure position; Bulgaria's spine had a slight curve to it, his head was head was lowered but his eyes were still facing the other dogs, and his ears were pinned to his skull. "It's just the other nations," Romania reassured him and watched as the Bulgarian dog's muscles began to loosen up some.

"But you can't see them clearly. We don't know if they are countries or not; they look like regular old mutts to me..." Bulgaria's eyes locked onto Romania as he said this, but the other dog just waved him off. "Sometimes you worry a bit much." Romania's lips curled back up in a mischievous smile when the group of dogs finally came into better view. It turned out that there were actually five dogs in the group heading for them, and Vladimir was glad to see one of them particular.

She had tight curls in her light brown coat - something that the representative of Romania thought were a drastic change to her human form. There was a pink flower tucked behind one of her triangular ears, long locks of fur copied her human self's hairstyle, and on her back was what looked to be a two sided saddle bag and Romania caught sight of the iron handle of f her notorious frying pan sticking out from under the flap of the right pouch of the bag. He stood and called out, "It's been a while hasn't it, Ms. Hungary?"

"Why did I not expect to see you here?" she called back.

Once the representative of Hungary and the rest of her group reached the steps, she gave a quick nod toward Bulgaria, acknowledging the nation's presence. Bulgaria smiled slightly in return. He then turned his attention back to Hungary's side and recognized the other four dogs immediately by scent. Sweden, Norway, Finland, and Iceland.

He hadn't even gotten a look at the other dogs' faces and already his mind was bringing up names to go with, what? Scents? 'I guess this dog thing is going to take some time getting used to,' he thought and decided not to worry himself over it. This was just a new feature that came with being turned into a dog.

Sweden was the tallest of the entire group, even when he was sitting down. His cobalt-blue fur was short and painted with blue-grey markings on his cheeks, along with his chest, belly and underneath his tail. A white stripe ran from between his eyes and down to his nose. Standing next to him was the smallest one - a dog with creamy yellow fur. Finland. He still kept his human form's hair cut - just like everyone else - and a white marking was present on the country's lips, starting right below his nose and arched forward toward his jaw; the markings on his face and belly were tannish in color. He sported a green leather collar with yellow bells decorating it and a rectangular Finnish flag as its pendent.

Next to those two were Norway and Iceland. Both brothers were about the same off-white color, only Norway's coat was a tad bit darker then Iceland's and the island nation's legs were stouter, putting his body low to the ground where his long fur swept. The Norwegian's fur would have been completely unblemished had it not been for the clearly darker markings on all four paws and the saddle marking on his back. Iceland had a brown patch over his right eye and a saddle pattern also.

As he looked them all over one by one, Bulgaria noticed that they were missing someone...they werecalled the Nordic Five, correct?

"Hei, aşteptaţi un minut." Romania tore himself away from the conversation (argument) he was having with Hungary and hopped over to where Bulgaria was at. With his paw, Romania pointed at each Nordic country and mouthed the words, "One...two...three...four..."

"Why are there only four of you?" he asked, putting his paw back down.

"Where is...uh...you know..." Bulgaria said a bit stressfully as he tried to remember the missing Nordic Five member's name. He groaned before continuing, "Yeah, you know. That guy with the spiky hair. He is blond, loud, annoying and-" He was cut short by his shaggy-haired friend shoving him in the shoulder. Bulgaria looked up to be greeted by Romania's slightly peeved facial expression. What? Bulgaria mouthed, but the other nation ignored him and looked up at the oddly even-numbered group. "Where's Denmark?"

All he got was a snort and head turn from Norway, a nonchalant shrug from Iceland, an apologetic smile from Finland that made up for his unspoken words, "I don't know, sorry," and Sweden replied with, "We don't know. When we woke up this morning and went to go check on him, he wasn't home."

Romania wore a puzzled look. "Eh, that is weird. Denmark's usually tagging along with you guys."

"Even when we don't want him to," Norway added and Romania shrugged his comment off before perking up with a sudden, "I guess it's settled then." The other six dogs to give him confused glances, and before anyone could ask him what in the world he was talking about, Romania said, "We're going to go look for Denmark before he gets himself in trouble or ends up getting hurt." " The dog hopped off the steps and began to trot up the road. Bulgaria shrugged and proceeded behind his closest friend immediately, followed by Finland and the other remaining Nordic countries after their bit of hesitation.

Hungary couldn't believe her eyes.

"You are all just going to walk off?" She shook her head in disbelief. "We came all the way here in search of England and look! We are at his house!" she reminded the northern dogs and Romania stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around and said, "England will not be coming back any time soon, I'm sure of it, so we might as well go and look for Denmark to past the time. Who knows, maybe we'll find other nations who have been turned into dogs, too. It will be fun, right?"

"I'm staying here." Hungary sat down on her haunches in front of the door, rooting herself to the spot and making it clear that she was not going to go along with the other countries' plan.

"Suite yourself," Romania sing-songed out, a smirk playing at his lips. "You will be left here all alone until we come back for you~" He gave the other country a look of mock pity. "Oh, Hungary, now I feel so bad for you. I think I'll stay and keep this poor little lady company, guys."

Everyone gave an eye roll at that except for Hungary, who just uttered a short huff and flushed out of embarrassment -Thank God for my fur! - and Bulgaria. He shifted his gaze downward and idly looked at his paws as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

Romania snickered and raised a paw to wave the others off then ran over to join Hungary on the steps. When he went over to sit beside her, she shifted away from him but the Romanian just moved closer as he tried his best to annoy her. Bulgaria huffed after seeing the two of them continue these actions for a few more seconds but then his eyes went wide in shock when he saw Hungary grabbed her frying pan by the handle, sling it out of the pouch and take a swing at Romania. Luckily he quickly evaded the blow and, though he had huge paws, landed elegantly out of her reach. Romania sat back and while pointing at Hungary, he laughed at her failed attempt to smite him.

Bulgaria let out a sigh of relief at not seeing his friend get swatted down like a fly by the riled Hungarian. "Okay, let's get going," he ordered the Nordics; he trotted down the path and the others followed.

For the three hours that the had walked no one said much to each other. It wasn't like Bulgaria actually knew the others to the point where he could freely call them his "friends"; he did happen to live in the southeastern part of Europe while Sweden and the other four who Denmark referred to as his "brothers" lived way up north.

They traveled in awkward silence for what Bulgaria could only guess was about an hour more, maybe a little bit over that - and hour and thirty minutes? He really didn't know - before the quietness of the day was broken by someone screaming at the top of their lungs.

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my brother!"

Bulgaria stopped dead in his tracts and swiveled his head over to the right as his lopped ears perked up. He blinked curiously and tilted his head to the side as someone else answered. "I amaway from him!"

"Ten feet's not enough! Back up some more, Potato Bastard number two!"

Potato Bastard? Where had he heard that one before?

"That must be South Italy and Prussia," Finland jollily chimed in. "I recognize their voices. We should go and meet them, yes?"

"I agree. Maybe they have Denmark with them," Sweden's gruff voice answered and the taller dog began walking through the thick bushes that separated the walking track from the one on the other side of the hedges. "Sweden wait for us," Norway said and nudged his little brother's shoulder with his pointed nose to get him to go ahead and proceed through the bushes as well. Iceland exhaled loudly through his nostrils and complied with Norway's request. Norway allowed Finland to scurry past him before following suite. Bulgaria lowered his head to avoid low hanging branches as he stepped into the shrubbery as well.

Once he was over to the other path, Bulgaria looked ahead of him and sure enough, there was Prussia and South Italy standing a fee feet from each other in the grass - again, he could tell who was who by their scents. Both dogs had their hackles risen and were barking angry words at each other. When Romano made a statement about kicking Prussia's ass, Bulgaria couldn't help but chuckle at that. How was a dog Romano's size going to-

A loud yelp was emitted from Prussia as the Italian dog pounced on him, allowing all of his force settle in his front paws, which he struck the albino nation in the chest with. Prussia uttered what sounded like an out of breath "woof" before toppling backward and hitting the ground on his side. The little Italian hopped off of Prussia, turned and kicked up a mixture of grass and dirt into the albino's face, and pranced away. While he was trotting off, Prussia sat up and sneezed, dislodging any debris that was left in his nose; a glare was sent the curly-tailed dog's way and it was clear that the ex nation was not ready to give up the fight just yet. "You little shit!" he growled and immediately ran after Romano, who glanced over his shoulder with a nonchalant expression. It quickly changed to one of utter alarm; his olive green eyes widened when he saw a huge charging mongrel racing full speed at him. His mouth dropped. "CHIGI!"

The southern half of the Italian Peninsula felt his legs automatically begin to move at rapid speeds, propelling his fluffy body forward as his enemy began to catch up.

"Preussen!"

The shepherd halted, nearly toppling over his own feet in the process, and looked around for a few seconds for who had called his name. His red-violet eyes landed on the group of five dogs standing about twelve feet away from him. Momentarily forgetting about carrying out revenge on South Italy, the Prussian frowned at Sweden. "What?" he asked. "You did just see what he did to me, right?"

Sweden ignored his question. "You need to stop." He looked down at Romano, who had quite running when he realized that the albino shepherd no longer posed a threat to him. "The both of you."

"Sie sind nicht meine kommandierenden Offizier." Prussia looked behind him to see Germany approaching. "Hey West! Look at who I found!"

Germany's brow was still furrowed when he reached his older brother's side. He gave a quick nod at the Nordics and Bulgaria then looked at Prussia. "What have I told you about-" Prussia gave a loud, exaggerated sigh and with a roll of his eyes he finished Germany's question: "Running off? Don't do it; stick with the group. Standing too close to your bestest friend in the whole entire world - also known as your potential love interest - and provoking his butt hurt older brother? Don't do it."

The black and tan German shepherd's eyes narrowed at the last statement - particularly about Italy being a love interest and...well he did like Italy but only as a friend! And they did spend most of their time together...and then there was that time when Italy gave him roses for Valentine's Day...'Verdammt, Germany! Get back on track! That was all a big misunderstanding anyway!'

Germany opened his mouth to say something but then his eyes snapped over to the other dogs. "Wait...where is Denmark?"

"We don't know," was the simultaneous answer from all of them, however Norway's voice seemed to stress the reply out the most as if he was already tired of people asking where his obnoxious neighbor was though he had only been asked twice.

"Ha! You are all missing your friend while my group - lead by the awesome me, of course - has everyone here!" Prussia mocked and he smirked mischievously when Sweden lifted his lips to reveal his canine teeth.

"Don't be jelly," the ex nation said.

"Idiota! Everybody is not here!" Romano walked up to the German brothers - but he didn't get too close - and his muzzle and brow were creased. "Where the hell is my brother, Potato Bastard?" Before Germany could get his statement out, Prussia jumped in with, "How am I supposed to know? I was up here with you, remember?"

"I wasn't talking to you. Your name is Potato Bastard number two. Remember that," the Italian nation said in a matter-of-factly manner. He then turned his attention back to Germany. "You were back there with Italy - you better not have laid a paw on him and you'd better tell me where he is right now or I swear I am so punching your ear!"

Whether Germany answered with an aggressive tone or none at all, things were going to get heated between them really quick so Finland decided that he'd try and calm the two of them down. The spitz stepped between them and with a worried expression he said, "Romano, maybe you need to calm down for a bit? I am sure Mr. Germany did nothing to harm your brother; maybe he just happened to wander off somewhere?" He patiently awaited for the string of curses to fall from the Italian's lips, but those never came; instead, South Italy looked up at Finland and sighed. "Sure, fine. Whatever."

He walked a few feet back in the direction he and Prussia had came from and yelled, "Fertello, you'd get yourself up here right this instant!" There was no answer and no sign of his brother, or Belgium...or Holland...or Spain...

"Feli! I am not playing with you; get up here right now!"

"Maybe they're just taking their sweet time getting here." Prussia had noticed how distraught the Italian's curl had gotten and tried to give him some kind of hope.

"Don't talk to me. If it hadn't been for you, the awesome Prussia, we would all be together right now," the smaller dog said without looking up. Prussia scoffed and sat down beside his younger brother. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you five have already been to England's place."

"Yes. We just came from there," Bulgaria said. "We," he gestured to himself and the Nordics, "figured that England was not going to return any time soon so we went looking for Denmark. Hungary showed up, too, but she wanted to stay behind and wait. Oh, and Romania stayed with her." He abruptly shut up when he saw the ticked off expression the albino dog made. "A-anyway, are you two going to just wait here until your friends show up again?"

"Hell no," Romano barked and took off down the way he had came from earlier and the German siblings watched as he sped off.

"I am going to go and find Denmark now," Sweden announced, and with that the tallest dog turned to the other Nordics. "Are any of you coming?"

"I'll go," Bulgaria said.

Iceland shook his head, ending his extra fur across his own face. "I don't think so. I want to go help Romano look for his friends."

"Then I'm going as well," Norway said. The youngest of the Nordics picked up that weird note that almost cracked his brother's voice when he spoke; Norway sounded, well, a bit hurt that Iceland was going to run off and leave him. The fluffy dog sighed. "Fine, come on then."

Germany, Prussia watched the other dogs go their separate ways; two of them hurrying off after Romano, the other three going to find the Dane.

'Can this day cannot get any weirder can it?' Germany asked himself.

"Where's my brother at? And don't say he's at home. We already checked there like an hour ago! You two keep in touch don't you? Well you should know where he's at."

Up ahead were two dogs. One was quite small and thin; his fur was very short, his ears were semi-erect with slight folds at their tips, and his tail was long and skinny. There was a red, white, and black scarf tied around his neck. His thick blond eyebrows and hair cut, which were very distinctive against his merled coat, and the blue striped hat were a dead give away. Trotting beside the small dog was another one of greater height. Her coat was a mix of liver and ginger and was made up entirely of tight ringlets that also fell over her eyes. This dog's tail was also very long and gave Germany the impression that the appendage was hairless, but it was actually covered with short hairs. From what he could see, there was a pretty green collar around the tall dog's neck with the Republic of Ireland's flag as the metal tag.

"Selan' I swear if yer don't shut yer mouth," the dog with England's youngest sibling growled. "I will shut it for yer, do ya hear?" Beside her, the smaller canine stopped walking and stuck his tongue out at her. "Why do you have to be such a jerk, Aednat?" The use of her human name earned the Principality of Sealand another growl then, answering his question, Ireland waved her paw at him as if to say "whatever" and moved forward again. Soon, she caught the scent of two other nations -well, one nation and one ex-nation. She raised and eyebrow at them before calling, "Hey! Yer two over there!" and trotted up to the German brothers.

"Well, well, well," Ireland chuckled. "If it isn't Germany and his brother, the non-awesome Prussia. Good to see you two again. When was the last time we talked, now?"

"Last Thursday," Germany flatly informed her.

A smirk formed on the Irish dog's muzzle when the albino nation-turned-dog pulled his lips back, haven taken a blow to his ego due to her words. "Hey! Watch your mouth little girl," the shepherd snapped and the dog with the ringlets scoffed.

They knew each other very well, but even before they had became the Kingdom of Prussia and the Republic of Ireland respectively, Prussia and Ireland never had a good relationship with each other to begin with. The southern part of the island of Ireland knew how to get underneath the ex-nation's skin -by calling him non-awesome- and she honestly thought that a little childish taunt would just be brushed off anyone's shoulder. But, then again, Prussia wasn't just anybody.

"Prideful. Ex. Nation," she shot back then straightened her stature. "Let me guess," she started, looking the two Germanic nations in the eyes. "All of the other nations got turned into pooches as well, right?" She looked down at her younger sibling and sighed. "I guess we're not the only ones, kiddo."

The Irish dog flipped her curly ears as an itch began present in them before saying, "Me brother here won't take 'I don't know where Englan' is' for an answer. Selan' and I already went by the Brit's place to see if that dunce would be able to change us back; I know he had somethin' to do with changin' us into dogs. But," she sighed, "Just our luck, he wasn't home."

"Great," Germany mumbled. So they were all heading there for nothing.

"Now what are we going to do? I do not want to sit here all day and wait for the others to catch up," a certain albino shepherd complained as he sat back on his rump. "Being bored is not awesome!"

Ireland opened up her mouth to say something, but the youngest of the German brothers beat her by saying, "You're not being bored, you're just being impatient," and stealing the words right out of her mouth.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to find England because I don't want to be running around on four legs for the rest of my life! How am I going to lead a country like that? I'll be the laughing stock of the entire world!" Sealand yipped and a glint appeared in the micro nation's big blue eyes at the thought of getting away from his unusually cranky older sister.

"Hey! You'd better not. I already don't like yer an' that thick-browed jerk brother of yers with his stupid eyebrows and stupid accent. If yer get lost under me watch an' Englan' finds out, I will never hear the end of it," the sharp-tongued Irish dog replied. She immediately got to her feet and raised one forpaw to set down on the principality's long tail, however, the younger dog laughed before breaking out into a full fledged sprint down the path where Romano and the other Nordics had went off not too long before. "Just you try and catch me, Ireland!"

"Sealan'! Git yer spotted arse back here right this instant! Sealan'!"

At the end of her wits, Ireland heaved an exasperated sigh and angrily stomped after the youngest member of her family; just before she passed the two shepherds, she to them and barked, "Me an' the brat will be at the statue in the center of the park waitin' on yer and yer group, Germany."

"We'll meet you there," Germany confirmed with a nod.

With that settled, Ireland turned forward again and screaming out threats of what she'd do to Sealand when she caught him, she marched away.

"Romano, wait up."

The small Italian dog swiveled his head around to look over his shoulder when he heard a voice followed by racing footsteps. That better not be the Potato Bastards or I swear I'll-

Iceland skidded to a stop right in front of Romano, nearly colliding with him. "Sorry," the fluffy sheepdog apologized quietly. Romano just looked up at him and moved back a few steps as he said, "It's okay-"

Then Norway slid into Iceland's back and both of them fell over and landed on top of the little Italian dog.

"Get off of me! Get. Off!"

"I-I'm sorry...sorry." Iceland was quick to apologize yet again and removed himself from on top of the short-tempered nation. He gave a short, icy glare at his bother, but, as always, Norway kept his poker-face expression. Iceland sighed and scooted back a few inches from both of the older dogs.

"Why are you two following me? Aren't you supposed to be looking for that loudmouth friend of yours?"

The youngest of the Nordic's purple eyes immediately flew down to his paws. "I just wanted to help you," he admitted, "Germany and Prussia were not much help back there so..." He trailed off and awkwardly shuffled his feet for a moment before looking back up at the South Italy.

Romano shifted his gaze to Norway, wanting to know why this guy had followed. The short-haired dog shrugged. "I can't help too?"

Romano puffed out his cheeks at the other's response. He didn't want these guys tagging along -he barely even knew them!- but Iceland was right, the potato eating nations were not much help at all. "Yes. Fine. You two can help," he droned out, halfway regretting that he agreed. He turned and began to trot off quickly. "But don't you dare slow me down or I am leaving you, okay?"

The sudden harsh comment took Iceland by surprise but he nodded in agreement, though Romano clearly could not see his response.

"You didn't have to yell," Norway said in his monotone voice then he nudged his little brother with his nose. "Come on, Icey, before he decides to leave us." Iceland gave a snort to the use of his unofficial nickname, but the short-legged dog padded swiftly in front of Norway, eyes focused on the road ahead of them.

South Italy, Norway, and Iceland had been walking through the park for about an hour now and there was no sign that the missing member to Romano's gang had been anywhere near the places they had walked through. Though Norway kept his pretty much emotionless expression on, the older dog's body language was showing that he was tired and ready to give up the search. Iceland wanted to quite, too, but the determined look on Romano's face caused the sheepdog to reconsider and he kept marching quietly behind the Italian.

"Hey guys! Look what I found!"

"Denmark, put that down! You don't know where that's ben!"

"Aw, cool! Now we can actually have some kinda fun on this trip! Lemme see that."

"Nu-uh. Get your own, Hero Mutt!"

"I'm a Hero Dog!"

As the trio was passing by a wall of neatly trimmed hedges, a chatter of voices invaded the air and Norway casually stuck his head into the nearest bush to see who was causing the ruckus on the other side. When he pulled his muzzle back out and turned to Romano and Iceland -both who had stopped walking and were looking at him with quizzical faces- the spitz said, "It's just America, England and Denmark."

All three dogs exchanged looks. Iceland and the smaller Italian dog both dove into the bushes while Norway watched them with uninterested eyes, however his frown had deepened at the discovery of the self-proclaimed "King of Scandinavia."

Across the way, America was attempting to yank and old, dirty red sneaker from Denmark's mouth; the more reddish-colored dog growled and pulled back. "I saidget your own, America! Now let go!"

England was standing on the sidelines, watching as a violent battle of tug-o-war with the shoe unfolded between America and Denmark. "I should have known this was going to happen. Ugh, we shouldn't have taken the scenic rout."

While those three were busy minding their own business, Iceland, Norway, and Romano made their way over to them. South Italy cleared his throat loudly once he was behind England and caught the taller dog's attention. The collie's green eyes had a questionable look in them when he faced the Nordics and the Italian. Skipping introductions, Romano went straight to the statement: "Please tell me you've seen Feliciano around here."

"Er, no. Sorry," England said, thick eyebrows furrowing sadly at not being able to help. "I've got a question for you, though; we were traveling with four people -er, dogs- and now we're down to just three: America, Denmark, and myself. I...can't remember whoever it was with us...but you have seen someone else pass through here, have you not?"

"No," was South Italy's blunt answer.

"Norge!" The over-joyous cry ripped a huge tear in the air around the other canines as Denmark dropped his half of the shoe and turned with a full smile on his muzzle toward his friend. Suddenly, the Broholmer reared up and proceeded to bound over to Norway, who stood his ground stiffly as if a huge mastiff was not about to barrel straight into him. Just as Denmark was right in front of him, Norway stepped to the side and the bigger dog tripped over his outstretched hind leg. Norway sidestepped the larger dog as he fell to the ground...or he thought that Denmark was going to fall to the ground. When a chorus of two yelps came from behind him, Norway turned around to see what was the matter. The mastiff was lying on top of his little brother; Iceland had gotten his long fur stuck on the brambles of the bush he, Norway and Romano had just came through. Unable to move out of the way of the oncoming "King", he ended up being used as a cushion to soften Denmark's fall.

England and America watched as Norway calmly strolled over to where Denmark lay and snatch his collar in his jaws. The Norwegian gave a harsh tug and pulled Denmark off of his younger brother, choking the other dog in the process. "Yeah...it's nice...to...see...you...too," Denmark managed to say though the gagging noise he was currently making. Finally Iceland got himself untangled from the shrubbery and Norway released Denmark as if that action was his cue. The youngest of the Nordics gave a wary glance at the gasping and sputtering dog on the ground to before he looked past the representatives of America and England at something that had caught his eye. Suspended in the air was a sleeping white bear.

"What...?"

The brother duo simultaneously looked behind them to be greeted with the sight of the polar bear. "It's a ghost!" America screeched and began screaming at someone -anyone- to kill it, kill it, kill it!

"Dammit America! You can't kill a ghost, idiot! It's already dead. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for why that bear's floating," was England's mater-of-factly answer in his matter-of-factly tone.

"There is no such thing as ghosts," Iceland quietly replied. His sharp ears suddenly rotated backwards when he heard the rustling of leaves from the wall of bushes he had just escaped. "Oh, there he is," a relived voice belong to a female sighed, followed by a short grunt as she pulled herself from the bramble bush. "About time," was a male's gruff response.

"Romano!" a cheery voice called out and Iceland saw a small and slender dog that reminded him of a miniature greyhound hop out next to his female companion's legs.

"Italy? I thought I told you not to run off!" South Italy barked as he ran up to his brother. "You're not hurt are you?"

"Ve~ No, of course not!" Italy exclaimed and pulled back from his concerned brother's sniffing nose. "I was with Belgium and the Netherlands the whole time. They wouldn't let anything bad happen to me."

"But where is Spain?"

"He should be right with us," Belgium said and took a glance around to see if she spotted the other dog. "Um. Any second now."

"Dudes! We don't have time to be waiting on Spain to get over here!" America shakily barked. "There's a ghost right there! So I think the best thing to do is to ruuuun!"

The retriever mix shot off and England called after him to come back. Of course, the frightened super nation was already too far ahead to hear. England scoffed to himself, "Bloody hell," before tracking after the younger country and forgetting all about the floating bear that caused this whole event to happen. "Hey you guys, wait up!" Denmark scrambled to his feet and chased after the duo, and Iceland followed close behind. It took a few seconds of contemplation before Norway stalked after them; he didn't want to follow the loud Danish country, but there was no way he was going to leave Iceland in his presence.

"Should we wait on Spain or follow them?" Belgium questioned. "I mean, were were looking for England after all and it would be bad to loose him...but I don't want Spain to get lost-"

"We follow them," the Netherlands said then blew out a puff of smoke. He started ahead and his littler sister quickly trotted behind him.

Left behind, South Italy growled, "Hey! What about Spain? We can't leave him!"

"I'm sure he'll show up soon," Italy reassured him with a smile?."

As if on cue, the pointed-ear Spaniard stepped out of the part of the bushes that had less thorns. "Ah, Romano, Italy! There you two are."

"Ve~! See? What did I tell you, fertello?"

"Hmm. I thought...Belgium and the Netherlands would be with you, Italy."

"They were," the northern half of the country spoke, "But they followed America and England when they ran off."

Spain's ears shot straight up. "What? They found England? Well what are we waiting for? Let's catch up with them." Spain lead the way to the others with the Italy brothers bounded at his heels.

Once they were out of sight, Canada whined. "Guys, I'm still here..."

"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked the long-haired dog he had just been taking a nap on. "I'm Canada," the dog whispered.

Translations:

Hei, aşteptaţi un minut - Hey, wait a minute (Romanian)

Preussen - Prussia (Swedish)

Sie sind nicht meine kommandierenden Offizier - You are not my commanding officer (German) (I think that's the correct translation)

Verdammt - Damn it (German)

Romania is a Mioritic sepherd

Bulgaria is a Bulgarian hound

Hungary is a mudi

Sweden is a Jämthund

Norway is a Norwegian buhund

Finland is a Lapinkoira

Iceland is a Icelandic sheepdog

Sealand is a smooth collie (I honestly thought about making him a cat, but -woo hoo- someone beat me too it Dx)

Ireland is an Irish water spaniel

A/N: I don't ship GerIta, but when I do, I make the subtle hints and stuff like that xD

(I threw a little bit in here for you guys who do like it)

Anyway, if there is anyone -anyone at all- out there who knows how to write out Sweden's mumbling voice, please send help! I tried doing this once, someone on one of the websites I found said "try dropping the vowels." And you know what? The words didn't come out like anything he'd pronounce.

I just touched on another one of my OCs here and the last two will show up in later chapters, but don't worry. They won't be getting as much screen-time as the canon characters considering that this isn't an OC-centric story.

Thanks for reading! With much love,

- KW