He And His Dog

chapter one

America slung his bag over his back, the gun strapped onto it made tapping sounds each time it made contact with the bag. Oreo sat at America's side, waiting for their travels ahead of them.

America looked down to the dog, "I'll follow you today, how 'bout that?" He suggested. Oreo lifted his head and stood up, ready to explore. America gave him the nod of approval as Oreo began to trot into the forest, out of the clearing, America didn't hesitate to follow.

"If you land us somewhere good I'll happily follow you in the future," America spoke up, Oreo kept moving. It seemed like he didn't even acknowledge what America had said. America huffed - he would've liked to talk to an actual person for once instead of his dog. He did love Oreo like family, but he was still talking to an animal who wouldn't respond in any intelligent way.

America followed Oreo through the dark forest, stepping over broken branches and young bushes. He tried his best to avoid the muddy puddles that Oreo walked through without a bother, and walk beside shallow streams that Oreo waded through.

America began to doubt following his dog, unsure of where Oreo was leading him. His doubts disappeared as Oreo stopped beside a worn limestone path. America was shocked, to say the least - he mentally noted to always trust Oreo when he wanted to go a different way.

America, worn out, crouched down on the path and took a short rest, taking a moment to catch his breath and regain a bit of energy. His gaze soon met Oreo's.

"Good work, pal," America hummed, scratching Oreo behind the ears, "You wanna treat?"

At the word 'treat', the dog's tail began to wag. America chuckled and dug into one of the pockets on his jacket, pulling a piece of dried beef from it. He threw the bit to Oreo, which he began to chew as soon as he got it in his mouth.

America took that moment to recollect his thoughts. He needed to check the time, stop his exploration at five. That's how his day went.

America held his hand up to the sun above him, his fingers together. The sunlight met up with the midway point on his palm, and down his fingers, maybe a tiny bit lower. He nodded; it was just past midday. He had worked out this system a short while ago, and God, did it help.

Oreo soon perked up, trotting over to America with the normal cheerful expression he always had. It seemed as though the dog wanted to show off to America that he had finished his treat - he probably wanted more, but America shook his head; Oreo could have one later.

"C'mon," America whistled as he stood up and repositioned his backpack slightly, starting down the limestone path. The bushes seemed conveniently cut back, very recently cut back, America added, and the twigs and branches had been moved off of the path. He raised an eyebrow - was there another country here, perhaps? Curiosity got the best of him as he began to pick up his pace. 

Oreo saw that America wanted to go faster. In response, he darted forward, a tiny bit faster than America was, and barked once. A grin grew across America's face as he began to run with his dog, turning an adventure into a race. Oreo had purposefully started running alongside America, skidding around corners and 'helping' America to an unknown destination.

"Yeah, Oreo!" America cheered his friend on, only causing Oreo to sprint even faster. America laughed to himself as he followed his dog, only for them both to slowly come to a halt when the limestone path ended. And a concrete one started.

America shuffled down the new path, which had turned out to be an old street, with a cracked road and worn down buildings. Bunkers, more like. They must've created that illusion, however he knew that they were really just houses and shops because of the rotting logs and soggy planks that had caved in. Not many bunkers would have polished wood and bars, he thought.

"This is kinda cool," America admired the place, "Wadda' ya' think, pal?"

The dog didn't make a noise, apart from a low growl. Oreo's ears were down - America knew something was up. Oreo yelped and ran back towards the forest, as America muttered curses under his breath. It was too late for him now. He watched Oreo disappear as he felt a cold, metal tube-like object press up to his head. He recognised it as the muzzle of a gun.

America stuck to hands up and looked down, not making a single move. He might've been nervous, but at least he knew what to do in this situation.

"Who are you?" The one holding the gun asked, a thick Western European accent shone through, "And why are you here?"

"My name's 'Merica," He responded uneasily, with a slight bit hesitation, "I'm just travelling 'round, looking for a half decent place to stay. I'm not with anyone, before you ask, I'm only with my dog. He's harmless, by the way."

"Are you stupid?" The other exclaimed, "This is the result of our father's wars! You can't just show up and say that you're not travelling with anyone and you have a completely harmless dog!"

"Well, I hate to tell ya'," America mumbled as he watched Oreo stare back at them from the bushes, "Please, just.. I'm not here for any trouble, yeah? How 'bout you do me a favour and let me live, and I do you a favour by leaving you alone?"

The other country pushed America forward slightly and removed the gun. America spun around - there stood a shorter country, with large, round but cracked glasses with a dark steel frame, and a black beanie on. They were skinny, not all that muscular at all. They wore a puffer jacket that had lines of white going horizontally across the sleeves and the torso of the jacket, with a small white symbol on the shoulder too; it was an old brand that had probably come out before the wars had started. Their jeans were formal, but slightly muddy, which led into an old pair of trainers.

Finally, their flag had a black strip going horizontally at the top, the next one below was red, and the final colour yellow. Their eyes were narrow, and their overall expression looked worn out.

"The gun was never loaded," They grumbled, pushing their glasses up, "And you don't need to leave if you don't want to."

America grinned, and sighed with relief, "I mean, it's a pretty nice place here. Mind if I stay the night?"

The other shrugged, "If you want to. I'm Germany, by the way."

"Well, it's nice to meet ya'," America nodded, holding his hand out, "I mean, properly this time."

Germany took America's hand and shook it, stepping back as America spun around and called for Oreo. Germany stood behind America and he too watched the dog creep out of the bushes with his ears back and his movements slow.

"Oreo, pal, you don't need to be scared," America chuckled, kneeling down and scratching his dog, "We're not in any danger, okay?"

Germany knelt down beside America to admire Oreo too, tilting his head and patting the dog. Oreo sat up straight, enjoying the attention, and forgetting about what just happened.

"He's a good dog," Germany grinned, and America nodded, as a proud dog dad.

"He's the best!" America exclaimed, "Oreo's perfect, he's so smart and he's hilarious! Plus, he's the best friend that I could ever hope for."

Germany hummed after a moment's silence.

"I guess you should meet the others, then?"