You don't get it. You are never to interact with anyone else. Understand?

Dear, they are just children.

OUR children, and I don't want them to get hurt.

But they can't get hurt like you think they will if they don't embrace it. They didn't learn how to ride their bikes until they all scrapped their knees.

Ha. I don't think you two realize that the rest of them crashed on purpose to make America feel better. Then they all could have fun with the colorful bandages.

America had just gotten out of the building, the rest of his brothers in tow.

"So what do we think about this entire thing?" He started off. Canada was next, "Either way, if we stay out of this or not, we're in danger." "I personally say to find a group. There's more advantages." "You have a point Aussie." Zealand finished off.

America stretched out his arms (while Author's brain slowly descended into mush at seeing their amazingly thought out script of stuff being thrown into chaos and lore being fully exposed being thrown out the window and now had to drastically change course on a dime- most likely leading to a time skip soon), beginning to head back. He had managed to steal five walkie-talkies before he left, shoving them all into the mini backpack strapped over his shoulder.

"Well, I personally think we should talk about this at the house." Canada suggested. Aussie, now up on the eldest brother's shoulders, "That sounds like a good idea. I'm still hungry."

"Did you not get enough to eat when you were at China's?" Zealand asked the littlest.

"Well they gave me a lot of this tangy chicken, but, um. . . China and Japan know about our special diet."

"Five for the swear jar Zealand." America commented. "But now it's official. At least one of us needs to be with whatever group China and Japan are in. If they know, then what's to say they won't use that to their advantage? And if they do that thenwe may not be ableto resist a-and loose control. What ifwe, ifwe- if I couldbarely keep sane without Canada, thenwhatwould happenifwe gotseperated? WhatifIhurtsomeoneagai-"

America grabbed his older brother by the shoulders, managing to silence the shaking other.

"Breath Kiwi. In, . . . and out. . . . Just keep going Kiwi." As Kiwi focused on matching his breathing pattern to America's, Aussie moved over to Canada's shoulders. 

"We're not going to get separated like we did the other time, alright? We're not going to hurt anyone we know. Things are different now- we have friends and people like us. And we were all close to a day behind- you were having some withdrawals. After last night you got enough, and it's not going to happen again. Alright?" America reasoned, countering every negative his brother had. Sure, he was one of the younger, but that sure as hell didn't mean he couldn't step up when needed to.

They were family, and they needed to look after each other.

As soon as he could hear a little difficultly in his brother's airway, he felt the kerchief that protected their gills.

"It's a bit dry. Well. Let's all go to the house." America stated, gently scooping up Zealand. He made sure not to put too much strain on the other's shoulder, given that it was still trying to heal. Canada nodded as well, Aussie on their shoulders.

"Yeah, let's go home."

Back at the house, America dumped his older brother into the now full bathtub. He watched the blue country sink under the surface, beginning to undo the wraps of cloth around his gills. A few bubbles came to the surface as his brother's lungs swapped air for oxygenated water. While that was happening America got the medium tank filter up and going. It refused to come on at first, a small thwack making it change it's mind.

He helped hang up the shirt and kerchief, draping them on one of the towel racks as he was handed them. One they got a fair amount of the water drained then their next stop would be the washer.

After the water mostly stilled, America patted the top of it.

"You good Zee?"

"Much better. . . Thanks."

"Anytime."

"Hey you two! I'm thinking on making tourtière for lunch and then some beaver tails for a midday snack. That sound good?"

"That sounds awesome Canada. You have both the strangest and yet the best tasting food." America chimed back to his brother in the kitchen.

"Except pineapple pizza. Fruit doesn't belong on pizza." Zealand grumbled from under the tap.

"Oh come on!" America splashed water at the blue country's face. "Tomatoes are a fruit and they're on pizza. Besides it's amazing!"

"Are you three fighting over pineapple on pizza again?" Aussie joined the battle.

"Doncha think of joining this you traitor." Canada teased, at least before another muffled crack of a bone sounded from the kitchen.

"And America?"
"Yessum."
"Come feed your dog. She's sitting right beneath Australia and is threatening to nip his heels."

"She's not any worse than the snakes." America chuckled as Australia said his piece.

"I'm coming. I'm coming." America said, leaving the bathroom. Before he left he turned back to the most aquatic of the four, "If you need anything let me know." "Just let me know when lunch is ready." "Will do."

With a final wave off, he closed the door between the bathroom and the hallway.

A wall of scents and aromas hit him like a tidal wave, many herbs and spices and other goodies coming together in a flavor profile only tourtiere had. His senses soon lead to his stomach wanting in on the action, giving an impatient grumble. As he managed to single out the meat sauces, he felt his saliva glands go into overdrive. But what's this he was picking up? Cocoa? Cinnamon?

Now he couldn't decide which one he wanted. Bananas and Nutella or breading and savory pig, cow, and. Hang on a minute, was that moose? Scratch that, both had bread, but with the pick up of cheese and fried potatoes he knew poutine was on the table as well.

They had to let Canada cook more often if it all tasted as good as it smelled. And considering America had tried some of these before, only something catastrophic could make it unso. If he had a tail right now he was confident it would be impatiently swishing back and forth like his dog's was. 

Speaking of, they were licking their chops as they looked up at Australia. He had found one of Rosie's old bones and was currently cracking it open. Despite it being bare of meat, Rosie still wanted it.

"Rosie." The pup looked over at America for a minute before turning her gaze back at Australia. She scooted over a little more to prove her point. "Bone?"

That was the magic word, the puppy now having her full attention on the American.

"Want your bone? Yeah?! Let's go get your bone." He smiled, matching his tone to the energy levels of the pup. On his way over to the freezer he started whistling a tune he couldn't quite place yet. He tapped his foot to it as he opened the ice chest, cool air rushing out to greet him. Plunging his hands into the cold, he found a new bone for Rosie. Sure, there was a more recent bone that was easier to be found, but why not something special?

"'Scuse me." He said, stealing the sink tap. Canada gave his brother a bump back before going on to finish up the meal. The tune in his head finally came around.

"I'm BackK, baaack in the New Yahk Grooooooove. I'm BackK, back in tha New York Groooooove."

"Go backK, back to the living rooooom." Canada chimed in, wanting full reign of the kitchen again. "Besides, KISS isn't even your's. It's Dad's I believe."

"I think you're mixing up KISS with the Beatles. And why, my dear brother, would KISS have a song called 'New York Groove' if they didn't originate in one of my states? I believe you're just jealous that you don't have any good bands."

"Yes I do America! I have Justin Bieber, Barenaked ladies, and Nickleback along with a bunch of others you don't even listen to." "Woah slow down there Nada. You call those 'good' bands?"

"Yeah. Isn't Justin Beaver the one who tried to smuggle baby monkeys through an airport or ruined a famous racetrack or something like that?" Australia jumped in, getting backed by his slightly older brother. "And say that second band's name again and actually hear yourself."

America ducked as a spatula barely missed his head. "You're one to talk about band names. All of yours are all over the place. You have bands that are three letters long, things that don't even exist, and-" "John Denver, Crosby Stills & Nash, Metallica, Nirvana, Guns N' Roses, Fleetwood Mac, Foo Fighters, Abba. Case closed." "You have Abba?" Canada questioned as he mixed the gravy for the poutine.

"Well, I don't know for sure. But I know for a fact you and Dad don't have it." "Actually Abba came from Sweden if I remember correctly." Zealand popped in for a moment.

America didn't need Canada's laugh to tell him that he thought wrong.

"Well just be glad we're related to the country that invented Queen." America stated before he slunked off to give Rosie her treat.

"You know you're just spoiling her if you don't have her do anything to earn it." "Well I think after yesterday she earned it. Plus she still had my first pair of sunglasses. Huh? Say who's a good girl? Whossa good girl?" He descended into more babble talk as he rubbed the happy Labrador's belly.

It went on for a few moments until his arm got a little tired, he let Rosie get up and gave her her bone. With a glance at his hand, he found it covered in crinkly yellow hairs. Some of it was on the floor as well. "Eugh." With a quick shake, most of the fur was now on the floor.

A knock on the door startled all three of them, America being the one to head to the door. Canada was cooking and Australia was finishing up his emergency snack. He watched the blue mini head off to his room with it, passing him for the stairs.

Making sure his shades were on, he went and opened the door. 

"Hell-" "Good day sir. We were wondering if you would be interested in joining our hunting group." The short country cut him off, already pushing a flyer in his face. So fast in fact that it nearly threatened to knock off his shades. Crap. If these were part of the countries trying to go after the creatures, then one look at his eyes would be enough for suspicion. He caught them in time.

"Sorry, but we aren't looking to join one of these crazed escapades." America stated, leaning on the doorframe. He felt his brow furrow, an accurate representation of his feelings towards the two. He didn't bother to notice their flags, just that they were some combination of red, white, and blue. Plus one was missing an eye.

"I assure you America, they aren't crazy. We're just trying to help the rest of Pangaea and put the town at ease. Who's to say they won't go after countries next?" "Well take it from a country that has had to deal with wolves and nearly ran them to extinction. Only when deer and other prey became sparse did they start going after livestock. So maybe there's one of the underlying issues. Anyways, thanks but no thanks. Have a good rest of the day."

He backed out of the doorway, about to close the door. A stubborn foot wedged itself between the door and the frame. "Are you sure none of your family would like to join?" Their tone reminded him very much of a certain group of people trying to shove their wack program in his face and was desperate of members. If he recalled right it was some small fashion or cookie seller.

"I'm positive." He sniped back. "Now get your foot out of the door." "Please! The more the merrier and the better chances we have at catching these things." "Take. A. Hint. And leave us alone." America hissed, opening the door and kicking the other country's foot out of the frame. With that out, he slammed the door in their face.

"Everything alright?" Canada called from the kitchen. "Yeah. Just some countries trying to get us to join one of these hunting parties. About how long until lunch is ready?"

"Oh, it will be a while." Nada said, looking at the oven. He managed to pick up on his younger brother's mood. "If you want to head out to your shop I'll call you when it's ten minutes or so from being done." "Thanks Maple head."

The fire glowed brightly, melting the metal within. Once he deemed that the metal was moldable enough, he pulled it out. If there was one thing he was thankful for was his seemingly immunity to fire or burns. He aligned the glowing metal with the basic shape of the wire frame, molding the frame with delicate fingers. First came the hollow stick for the leg, then the joints. Once he was happy with the bubbly shape, he went off and pulled another stack of metal out of the forge.

Soon he was done with the four legs, bending steel and copper to make the body of the creation. He melded the bulk of his statue smoothly with the now cool legs, making sure that they could support the weight. He got more into the details, carving out the hooves with his fingernails. One could say that it was like working with clay.

Only much, much hotter and finicky. He traced the leg up towards the shoulder, making the distinct curve that separated the neck from the spine. The hips were easy to make, America putting a glob of dripping metal the size of his hand at the end. With a few details, he made the fluffy tail best he could at this stage of details. Next was the gaping hole that the head would connect to.

Considering the height of it, America had opted to work it up like one would a trophy above the mantle. He took the much lighter metal, carving the indents where skull met flesh. The muzzle was easy to make, as were the ears. The tricky thing would be the antlers.

America took two spare metal rods, heating them up in the forge. He snagged a few smaller ones, heating them up as well. Taking one of the rods, he carefully melded them with the brow of the head. He didn't realize that his tail was out, at least until he had it hold up the antler while he reached for the other large rod. The head now balanced, now came the mirroring.

One by one, the deer had a total of six points on each antler. With the type of dominance in mind, America went and added a few extra tones of muscle to the shell of the statue. He also added a few extra tufts of fur to the broad neck, giving essence to the creature's age. More details came to reality, him now focusing on the eyes.

He clapped his hands together, getting ready to connect the head to the body. But, those antlers look like they could use a little polish. Besides, it was down and in easy reach. He drew out his fangs, bringing his palm up to them. A familiar black substance pooled on his hand, him running the more watery mixture across the antlers. He watched in interest as some of it devoured the metal, saving him hours of work with the grooves and growth lines of the antlers. He repeated on the other side.

He took a step back, a sense of pride welling up within him as he looked at the bust. A little color, and it would be surprising to not see it blink.

"Lunch is about ready. You coming in?"

"Yeah. I'm coming back over. Just give me a moment to get the forge cooled off and get cleaned up out here."

"Good. I don't want you bringing metal scraps and grease into the house."

The rest of the day went off without a hitch: Canada made a meal large enough to fill up dinner and fit for royalty, Australia picked out a movie, and they cleaned up for the night.

America plopped on his bed, welcoming the soft sheets. He shifted slightly, feeling something poke into his back. With a rustle, he pulled out a light brown feather speckled with white. If one looked close enough, there were stray speckles of blue and red. He took off his sunglasses, feeling his eyes dialate as they got used to the darkness of the room. With the moon shining outside, he could make out the shapes of all his little knick-knacks with ease. With a happy sigh, he drifted off to sleep.

Sometime in the night he was nudged awake. Before he fully came too, he felt a shorter form wiggle in underneath his sheets. "'Nother nighmare?" He asked with a yawn. He felt the younger brother nod. With a hum, he pulled the little one closer. Soon he felt something softer than the sheets encompass both him and Aussie, some of the soft feathers tickling his nose. Feeling safe within the embrace, he felt the younger drift off back into a much more peaceful slumber. America wasn't far behind.