In The Trees

Dancing Away Our Problems

   I stood up. Fast. I try to ignore the searing pain in my back and my now pounding head.

"My family! I-I need to call Canada" I say, trying to stare at Russia as my world spins. I bring my hand up to my head. I felt even more lightheaded from the sudden movement. Russia, who stood up after I did, grabs my shoulders. I wince at the unexpected pain of his hand on my hurt shoulder. He apologizes and moves his large hand so it's on my arm. He slowly pulls me back down to my sitting position,

"You must relax. You lost some blood. I'm sure you have bad headache by now." He says. My mind felt foggy.

"I need to call Canada." I say groggily, trying to ignore the pain. Russia sighs,

"First you need to rest." I slowly shake my head, which was slowly starting to feel better. I had to call Canada. Russia sighs yet again, his annoyance on his face worn clearly as though it were a big green dot on his forehead. I ignored his look.

"I need to call Canada." I repeat, staring into his eyes. Russia groans, knowing I wouldn't give in. He pulls his phone out the pocket of his Adidas pants.

"What is number?" He asks, clearly agitated. I concentrate for a moment before giving him the numbers. It rings for a moment,

"Hello?" Canada's voice comes from the phone. I smile,

"Hey, 'Nada, I'm alive. Barely." 

"America! Are you okay? Did Russia help you?"

"How did you know about that?" I ask, confused,

"He picked up the walkie talkie."

"Yes, he did help. I have to go now, bye!"

"Don't get attacked by any more wolves!" Canada says quickly and I chuckle, once again ignoring the lingering pain on my back and chest. Russia returns his phone to his pocket.

"Because you do not want to go to hospital, I have to take care of you." Russia says, sitting back in his chair. I nod. My head still hurts and my thoughts are all foggy and slow.

"You should sleep. You look in pain." Russia says.

"I'm fine," I lied, "Did you bring any of my stuff?" Russia nods and stands up,

"I will go get it." Russia leaves, and comes back momentarily with a backpack. I smile and Russia places it on my lap. I sift through it. It was the backpack Canada packed for me. 

   The first thing I find is my broken sunglasses, which I frown and sigh at. I also find my phone and my MP3 player (good thing, because I would die without it). I pull those out and continue to sift through, just to see what I had. I still had my hatchet and maple syrup. I smile and chuckle at the memory of Canada drowning both mine and his pancakes in the sweet, sticky goo. I also remember screeching at him for adding too much syrup and his concentrated face as he measured half of the bottle for him, and the other half for me. I swear that kid would marry either Aunt Jemima, Mrs. Butterworth, or a freaking maple tree for their syrup. The image of Canada at the altar with a maple tree flashes through my mind and I snort. Russia looks up at me in confusion, and I wave him off, the wide smile stretching across my face in a painful way that stung the cuts on my face. 

    I stuff the hatchet and syrup back into my backpack and turn my phone on. I go through the many missed messages on my phone. I go through the ones from each of the family members that were there when I was attacked by the wolf. After sifting through messages and telling them that I am okay, I hesitantly go to my father's texts. They were mostly all snarky comments, asking me to go back, bragging about the search party, all that good stuff. One catches my eye. It was from last night, after I got attacked. It was a simple message, but it was big, 'Are you okay, son?'. He hadn't said anything as caring in a month. I think hard for a moment. Should I send something nice or snippy? I think for another moment then decide to ignore the message.