Québec sits underneath a maple tree, staring up at the leaves and pondering everything. Beside him, Canada sits with Kumajiro in his lap, the bear letting out small complaints of being hungry every now and then.

"Newfoundland couldn't join us today?" Québec asks.

Canada nods. "Nova Scotia was showing him how to play the flute, last time I checked. Said he needed someone to play along with his fiddle."

"That one's a little odd."

"Oui."

They fall silent again, but Canada can tell that his friend has other things on his mind. Sure enough, he starts another conversation.

"I don't get why they can't just keep it as it is," the French province utters, fixing his cowlick and frowning. "First I'm a colony, then all of your land is called Québec, and now we're Upper and Lower Canada?" He curses and slumps back against the tree trunk. "I don't get it, Canada. I just don't."

Canada shrugs, his violet eyes flickering sideways to his friend. "Well...I'm kinda glad that they're calling me Canada now, eh? People got so confused before." He frowns a little. "But...I don't know why, but I feel like I'm both the upper and lower parts. I'm not just one of them."

"That doesn't make sense, mon ami, because I feel as though I am just Lower Canada." He rolls his eyes. "Do you think there's someone around her who thinks he's Upper Canada?"

"Possibly, eh?" Kumajiro cuts in.

Laurent pauses for another moment before he glances at Matthew. "Do you think it'll stay like this?"

Before Matthew can answer, another voice cuts in with, "Nope! Countries are always changing. It's the way things go."

Québec lets out a small yelp of surprise as the tanned face of Métis appears above them, her long braids sticking straight up towards the ground. Her legs are hooked around a sturdy branch of the tree, a small smile on her face as she glances between the two boys.

"After all, if the land doesn't change again—" She grunts as she shifts her hold on the tree, letting her arms drape down towards the ground. "—I might never find out who I'm supposed to be."

"Speaking of confusing names," Québec says, raising his pointer finger,"do you have any more inklings of where you belong?"

Métis sighs, shaking her head. "Nope. Mother keeps mentioning how it's getting harder and harder for her people. Do you know about everything the Europeans are doing?" She shudders. "It's horrible, and we can't do anything to stop it." She shuts her eyes, starting to rock herself back and forth a little. "There are more Métis people, though, and they feel...right, I guess. I'm tired of just feeling lots of things and want some actual answ—WOAH!"

She swings a little too far, her legs losing their grip on the tree and causing her to flip off the branch. Canada is the fastest to react, leaping up and attempting to catch her, but he only ends up cushioning her fall as he haphazardly grasps at her. In a second or two, they're on the ground in a tangle of limbs, Adalene desperately trying to sort herself out as Matthew blushes and tries to help, but his attempts only make it worse.

Laurent looks down at them with a small smirk as they mutter and fumble with their tangled bodies, their heads bumping together and hands hitting or touching places that shouldn't be touched. The Frenchmen whistles and winks at them, a chuckle shaking his shoulders.

"Oh-la-la, I'd think you'd save that for the bedroom," he teases.

"Oh shut up, you sound like France," Métis snaps, her darker skin hiding the fact that she's blushing just as much as Canada is as she stumbles to her feet.

"He did raise me, Ada."

As Canada gets up, she stumbles again, bumping against his chest as her pupils dilate with dizziness. She groans, holding her head. Canada steadies her, a concerned countenance eradicating his facial features.

"Blood rush," she mutters, squeezing one eye shut.

"You okay?" her blond friend asks, hands still holding her in place.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She blinks a few times and exhales. "Well, that was an adventure."

"Indeed," Québec agrees.

"Hey, I found something kind of interesting," she remembers, stepping from Canada's hold.

"Yeah? Like what?" he asks, smoothing his clothes.

"Just a lot of flowers, but they're pretty and it's a pretty peaceful place. I can show you." She reaches out and grasps Québec's hand, yanking to his feet as she takes Canada's hand in her free one. Before either boy can protest, she leads them off down the hill.

----------

"Ta-da! Flowers!"

Canada's eyes widen in awe as Québec lets out a long whistle. Just as Métis promised, the field before them is completely strewn with flowers of all shapes and sizes and colours. Adalene laughs and takes off, throwing her hands out as she almost dances across the land. The boys stare after her.

"She's very independent," Québec comments.

"Very," Canada agrees. "But also beautiful, in her own way."

Québec gives him a short glance, then smiles as he takes in a deep breath of the scented air. "I suppose so. I can appreciate beautiful things, like this field...just another thing France left behind." His light brown eyes almost grow sad before he laughs. "Come on, let's explore."

Canada nods and shuffles off after him while Kumajiro waddles off to find a warm patch of dandelions to sleep in. The three friends wander around, examining the different flowers with curiosity.

"I like these ones," Adalene says, showing them a bunch of pretty purple flowers. "Prairie crocus, I think my mother called them. Aren't they nice?"

"Very nice," Canada compliments.

Québec goes to comment too, but his attention wavers to an approaching figure. His eyes narrow momentarily as he lifts his hand to his forehead, shielding his face from the glare of the sun. Sure enough, a boy no older than the rest of them can be seen within earshot of them.

From what Québec can make out, he's got shaggy blond hair, thick eyebrows, and dark green eyes. If it weren't for the small spectacles perched on his nose, the French province would think the boy was Britain but with lighter, better-styled hair.

"Hey!" Québec calls, making Canada and Métis look up. "Hey you!"

The boy seems to perk up, starting to jog towards them and keeping his head held high the entire time. Soon, he's directly in front of them, a smug look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hey, are you three those blokes Britain told me to find?" he asks, looking them over.

"Uh...that depends," Canada says. "Who did Britain tell you to find?"

The new guy rolls back on his feet, letting out a low hum as he thinks. "He said...there's a lady with dark hair, a French wanker, and Canada." Québec lets out a snort of disgust as Métis arches an eyebrow. The guy looks at Matthew again. "Yeah, you fit the bill for what Arthur told me."

"Um...okay, hi," Canada says, giving a tiny wave. "I'm Canada."

"Ontario. I bet you're all pretty flattered to finally meet me," the boy, Ontario, says, flicking his hair.

"Pardon, but who are you?" Québec asks, voice laced with fake politeness. "I've never heard of you."

"Uh...same," Métis agrees.

Ontario gasps, resting a hand over his chest as he adjusts his glasses. "You...haven't?" He clears his throat and straightens up. "I...I mean, uh, yeah. Of course you haven't. My province hasn't exactly been named Ontario yet, so you probably know me as Upper Canada. Upper because I'm on top. I'm better."

"Sacré bleu, what even is this kid?" Québec says under his breath, making Adalene giggle.

"Be nice, Laurent," Canada mumbles to him.

"He called me a French wanker, and apparently Britain did too," the province snaps back, pouting out his bottom lip.

"Actually, that was just my handiwork. All he told me is that you're French, but the wanker part was insinuated," Ontario says with a smirk.

"Why you little-"

Nearby, unbeknownst to the four teenagers, another person is watching. She hides behind a sizeable tree, her baby blue eyes wide and her cheeks rosy as she observes them conversing. The breeze rustles her blue dress and her curly hair, but she doesn't take her eyes off of the group.

Her brother, Newfoundland, said that finding Canada would be a good idea if she wanted to make herself more known. She objected for the longest time, not wanting to bother the country, and now she feels as though she made the wrong decision in trying anyways. There's another boy who's stolen the spotlight.

"Hey, who are you?"

She squeaks and spins around, coming face to face with Métis. The native tilts her head a tiny bit, noting the girl's flushed appearance and quick breaths.

"I'm...I'm...uh..." she stammers, her voice as breathless as she is.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Métis apologizes. "I just noticed you over here and thought you might be lost or something."

"I'm...I'm not l-lost," the girl manages to say, still feeling utterly foolish. "I was j-just looking for Canada. John told me-"

"John? Like Newfoundland?" When the girl nods, Métis gives a knowing look. "Ah, yes, I know him. Fun guy." She rolls her shoulders, making a soft crack sound from one of the stiff joints. "Well, I'm Métis...or Adalene. Honestly, either one works nowadays. Nice to meet you, uh..."

"New Brunswick, I'm...erm..." She clasps her hands together and looks at her feet. "I'm New Brunswick."

"You're a Maritimer, right?" Métis gets another gentle nod in response. "Nice."

"Adalene, who is this?"

Again, the shy colony squeaks and spins around to see Québec standing against the tree, Canada and Ontario lingering behind and staring at her in a sort of awe. Québec smiles, the look warm and inviting, as he nudges off the tree and offers his hand to New Brunswick.

"Pardonnez moi, mon petite fleur," he says, taking her hand and pulling her closer to him as he flashes a charming smile. "I didn't mean to startle you, I was simply curious as to where such a lovely young lady had come from."

New Brunswick's face heats up further as a soft sigh escapes her, her free hand resting over her mouth and her long eyelashes fluttering with embarrassment and flattery all at once. Ontario makes a choking noise.

"Gross..." he mutters. Métis glares at him.

"This is New Brunswick. She knows Newfie," Métis introduces. "NB, this is Québec, he's Canada, and he..." She eyes Ontario as his chest puffs up. "He's Ontario."

"Nice to meet all of you," New Brunswick says as Québec releases her hand.

"Want to join us? There's lots of flowers to enjoy," Canada offers with a smile.

She nods and he motions for her to follow him. The pair heads off, Métis trailing along behind them. Québec turns slowly only to find Ontario glaring at him. The Frenchman blinks innocently.

"Is something wrong?" he questions.

"Stupid Franco-frog," Ontario mutters. "Just sweep in and charm the beautiful girl before I even get the chance to show her my amazing self." He groans. "I already hate you."

"Thank you for being honest. I hate you too," Québec responds. "Au revoir."

He brushes past him to join his friends, ignoring the angry cursing of the Brit behind him.