The United States of Hetalia: The Forgotten Territory

Chapter 3: The Disease

The Europeans never seemed bad really, but they they were really doing bad on Mother. The elder and doctors were doing their best to help, but she only got worst. I walked in the large hut she was staying in by herself. She was layed down on the deer skins. Her breath was short and quick, and there was sweat on her forehead. I walked up to her and leaned over her. She gave me her best smile, but it was weak. She looked 20 years older than she had before. Worry lines showed across her brow and her once velvert long black hair was turning grey and stiff.

"My dear Ashwin," she started, "if I keep going, I will die. Please take over for me. And watch over your baby brother." I looked out the door at the little pale faced boy running around with a white gown. I sent a glare his way, but he didn't notice. How can such a beast come from my mother? He was not his responsibility anyway, he represented the villages of white people. He didn't belong in this land!

Mother put her hand on my cheek and turned my face to look her in the eyes. "Do not hate him. It is not his fault. Please watch him." She slowly put her hand beside her and stared at me. We stared deeply into eachother's eyes until I felt all of her power seep into me. I now represented Native America, but that was it. She was still the Native American history. She would never die, and she would slowly heal. Her head turned to the side and she closed her eyes in sleep. I looked down at myself, and felt I had grown. I was 12 years old now. This much responsibility and land and power had made me grow. I boldly walked out of the tent and looked at the men, feeling as one myself.

Author's Notes: The sickness that Native America got was from when the Europeans came. They gave them many diseases that they were not immune to, and this caused the largest genocide in world history.