Handling a Crisis

Chapter Fifty-Two: A Canadian Intermission

Chapter warning: talk of fictional genocide, talk of crimes against a fictional native population, talk of death and cannibalism, flashback to World War II

Canada was not having a good time.

He lay in bed, thinking about everything that's happened recently. He wanted to explain why he was acting up, why he changed, but he couldn't. How come? He didn't know the reasoning for it, actually. He didn't know why he was spacing out or why he got mad at Britain when he talked about the War of 1812 or why he stood up when New Zealand brought up New Pangea. It perplexed him and he wanted answers.

Sighing to himself, Canada rolled over in bed, trying to come up with something. At the family meeting, one of the things they talked about was America potentially having more kids than NATO, which was true. They got that figured out, thanks to Britain's suspicions after NATO's incident. He didn't stick around to find out if they actually accepted that theory, though.

Britain noted that America was acting very differently from how he usually did. That, Canada could openly confirm. It worried everyone. When NATO was comatose, America didn't talk to anyone, he barely ate, and he didn't sleep well. He basically acted like Canada whenever 9/11 hit–

Canada shot up in bed. Wait, what? he thought.

The more he dissected America's behaviour, the more parallels he recognized, but the more parallels he saw, the more confused Canada began to feel. Something didn't sit right with what he figured out.

Shaking his head, Canada laid down again on his side. He figured he'll just sort it out some other time. For now, though, he had to concentrate on helping his family in a way that didn't make him reveal America's secret before he was ready.

His mind, however, had different plans.

———

Canada wandered through the woods, grinning to himself. He turned his head from side to side, searching for any movement. "Come out," he coaxed in a sing-song voice. "Where are you?" In the distance, he could hear giggling. "I'm going to find you and gobble you up!"

"No, ?????, you're not a wendigo!" the giggling voice responded.

Canada tilted his head. "A wendigo?" He's never heard of such a creature before.

"They're spirits who make you kill, steal, and eat people! You're not one of them!"

Canada laughed. "Then come out! I'd hate to prove you wrong."

The voice's giggles turned into full bouts of laughter. "No!"

Canada rounded a tree and saw a blurry, shadowy, humanoid figure. It yelped and sprinted away, howling with laughter as Canada exclaimed, "Found you!" and started chasing them.

The two ran through the woods, weaving through trees, past bushes, and over small trenches in the ground. Canada eventually caught up to the figure and scooped them up in his arms. The figure squirmed and pushed playfully against Canada as he nuzzled his face in their stomach. "I warned you!" Canada reminded them.

"Nohoho!" the figure tittered.

"Oh, alright, alright. I guess I can spare you." Canada set the unknown person– assuming whoever this was was a person– and rubbed the top of their head, which was devoid of any hair.

When the person was on the ground, they immediately pulled Canada into a hug. Though he couldn't see their face, he could tell the figure was frowning. "I don't want to go," they complained.

Sighing, Canada hugged the figure back. "I know, I know, but you're needed elsewhere."

Canada felt spots on his clothes start to become wet as the figure started to cry. "But I don't want to leave you! I– I want to stay! This isn't fair! Wh-why can't I stay with you?"