Cauchemar-Martröð (Iceland/Open)

[Canada Nouvelle France]

Cold. A familiar cold that was almost a warmth. Soft, hard, cold, icy snow cushioning and seeping through what seemed far too thin. Was he wearing his pajamas outside? Why would he do that? Everything felt… off. No part of his body felt the way it should… His eyes were heavy and sore, throbbing like he’d been crying. But why would he be crying? Maybe snow had just melted and sealed them? That’s how they felt… He had no reason to cry… Sure he was slowly failing as he tried to help Alfred and the others, but a cuddle with Kumajiji and… no… no… nonononononononononononononoNoNONONONONONONO! Cool fur.. Kuma-he-he wasn’t! It was a bad dream it had to be! He must have slipped on the step and hit his head! It was a nightmare surely!

A cold knife seemed to be digging through his heart and tearing at his eyes. He needed to look, but… but what if it wasn’t a dream? Or if he was still dreaming? He felt strange, but that … there were no words to describe it well enough… it was a despair he knew deserved some stronger word for, but… it… It was like a wolf pack’s cry at the loss of cubs. He couldn’t take that feeling that was rising and threatening to choke him. He HAD to open his eyes and see! Struggling to lift his oddly weary body and open what felt like cemented eyes, he trembled and looked toward his tanned leather and fur-clad legs and petite bare feet.

The fluffy white snow was still… as the returning panic began to darken his vision and shorten his breath, sharp tiny fangs were revealed along with a pink mouth and red tongue in a large yawn. Coal black eyes blinked up at the blonde child in white furs. Kumajirou was alive…. ALIVE! The overwhelming joy and relief had Matthew frozen and oblivious to the tears he shed. The polar bear that was oddly now his size tilted his head before standing and licking his face dry, nuzzling the child and mistaking the tears for discomfort of the cold.

[Ísland]

He awoke slowly. The first clue that something wasn't right was the blankets. They were coarse and rough, not the fluffy smooth wool ones he always used. Island blinked and looked around him. Everything was...different. No, not different. Old. This was his house, certainly, but everything from the bed to the dresser to the floor screamed of a different time. An older time. He couldn't place exactly when just from the trappings, as a child he spent far too much time in Denmark's home, but he figured it was earlier then the seventeen hundreds. A glance at his ow body confirmed it. He was ten again. Ten! He scowled, throwing off the blankets and sliding to the floor, wincing at its sudden chill on his feet. He ignored it for the moment and quickly dressed, mentally wondering what in the world happened.

He'd never heard of time travel magic. Not a whisper, not a mention in any of Nor's books. Could he be dreaming? He pinched himself quickly to prove just the opposite. Okay, so he really was in his ten-year-old body. That left a lot of ground to cover. Eirik had been ten for more centuries than he cared to admit to. He could be back in the twelve hundreds for all he knew. He briefly wondered why he wasn't panicking more as he laced up his boots. Then again, surviving what he had would make any person slow to panic when rational thought and planning were the only sure means of solving the puzzle.

He left his small bedroom and exited the house, breathing in fresher air than he was used to. It was...nice. He'd forgotten how much he'd missed the scent of a crisp ocean breeze. He was a sea-farer by nature so the smell was a small comfort. As he wandered through town towards the old Althingi building, many of the humans spared him warm smiles, polite greetings, and quiet titterings. He almost grinned at them in return. He'd missed this too. Connecting with his people on this level. As time marched on, fewer and fewer people had been aware of who he was, of what he meant and thusly what they meant to him. It had saddened him even as he saw the necessity for the distance. Their kind couldn't be revealed to the world at large and with mass communications the risk just hadn't been worth it to the nations as a whole. He'd never thought his people would tell their great secret but he couldn't exactly go against the entire global community.

He spotted one of the elders he remembered (finally, he could narrow down the date to somewhen between the late fourteen and early fifteen hundreds) and darted over to him. They conversed in hushed tones for several minutes before Eirik kindly thanked him and went on his way. Fifteen hundred exactly. The boy shuddered at the thought. Not the worst time to somehow wind up in but definitely not a good one either. All the worst was yet to come. Turkey, Danmark, Sverige, Finland...not to mention all the natural disasters. Well, there wasn't much he could about it now. He didn't have Nor's books or experiences with such magics. Instead, he trudged back to the house, soaking up his people's might and spirit as he walked. Once there, he wrote a quick letter to his elder brother. He carefully considered the structure and wording, adding a phrase here or there that was more 'modern' than one he could have used. If Nor did remember, he'd pick up on it. If he didn't...well, Island wasn't known for being imaginative but he could think of some excuse. He wouldn't send such a letter to Danmark though. Too dangerous in this era. He mentally cringed a moment before scolding himself. If Danmark did remember their....future? past? the other wouldn't allow all of that to happen again. Wouldn't he?

Putting such thoughts to the back of his mind, he carefully concentrated, calling upon his magic. The thrumming pulse which answered him was familiar in its strength and the boy sighed in quiet relief. His normal reserves of magic would go a long way towards defending himself and he was thankful one weapon hadn't been stripped from him. He focused on Nor and flicked his wrist, banishing the letter to his older brother. All he could do now was wait.

He searched through his meager belongings for his chess set, the first he'd ever made and kept hidden from prying eyes, when something caught his eye. Curiously, he picked it up and examined it closely. It was a pair of gloves, far too small for his current hands and made of a fur he couldn't immediate identify. It certainly wasn't the wool he currently wore, it was too smooth and the hairs too long for that. And the smell...it triggered a long forgotten memory. Walking on another land, enticing a skitish nation into trusting him-Canada!

Island practically lurched at the revelation. The nation he'd once named Vinland, the nation he'd befriended after the war, the nation who understood him and vice versa. That nation was out there, waiting. And if he remembered what was going on...even if he did't, Island couldn't abandon him like he did the first time. Extenuating circumstances aside, this time Island had the power and means to go to him.

Mind made up, the young nation grabbed several sets of clothes and marched down to the harbor.

~*
Crossing the Atlantic took time, even with Island's magic augmenting their little boat. Still, they made good time even with the crew's mumbled musings on what punishments they would garner for traveling outside their waters. Danmark's boss probably wouldn't be happy, not to mention Danmark and Nor themselves, but Island didn't particularly care at the moment. All he could think about was the tiny nation he once knew all alone, possibly with memories of another time.

The outposts were old and decaying but would serve the crew's purpose for the time-being. The nation ordered the humans inside, reassuring them that he would be fine outside and alone. He was pretty sure his quarry wouldn't show itself if others were there. Sighing, Island quicky built up a large fire and roasted some meat over it. If he remembered correctly, a meal was the quickest way of luring the elusive Canada to his fire. He placed a set of clothing just past the fire's light and settled as close to the fire as possible, burrowing under a multitude of blankets as he read one of his books and waited.

[Canada Nouvelle France]

After an hour or so of being nuzzled, licked, and warmed by the large bear Matthew reluctantly nudged the worried bear aside to stand and get a look at himself. His hands….. limbs… they were so tiny and a bit pudgy like a child’s. He wasn’t even in the long shirt he wore with France… just a large old white polar bear pelt wrapped around his shoulders as if in an embrace, caribou hides wrapped around his legs, and a loincloth… Shuddering, the Canadian glanced at the snowy trees surrounding them. He was home… but it felt… different. Wilder. Fresher. New… and very empty. Sharp claws closed around his throat, pressing in as he clenched his red eyes shut and clung to Kuma. The bear was at a loss and nuzzled his blonde locks, as Matthew tried to anchor himself against the numbness stabbing into him. There was nobody. England wasn’t there. No France. No Portugal… Nobody. He was alone.


Shaking overtook his frame; he was hyperventilating. The low growl barely was heard as his head heated and began to float. When his eyes were open the word began to grey. They had abandoned him. He was alone. Kumajirou was there and he could feel peoples of the Old Times, but they weren’t with him. They felt like they were things to run from. Tall monsters that hunted him and his packs, friends, family… He tensed at the thought-memory. He was a child again? But… when was this? He had been alone for so long before… The warmth of blood from a fresh kill and the songs of his furred brothers were what kept him before. Could he do that again? No-wait! Maybe they were here? Yes… m-maybe he wasn’t tossed away yet, something that kept niggling into his mind. He felt… and felt… eyes shut trying. Reaching across his modern borders, even to the stolen Alaskan territories; he couldn’t feel anyone from across the ocean. Choking and gasping Matthew’s head jolted up to peer around anxiously. Surely someone had to be…? The panic from the early loss of his heart was returning as one of his greatest fears.

Kumajirou kept up a worried whine as his hairless brother shook and looked around as though he were a rabbit surrounded by Pack. His scent was off… He could feel the panic and couldn’t understand it. His was acting like he was lost and alone… but he was here. His ears twitched at the irregular breathing and how the boy jolted every few seconds, until he sounded in strange patterns… He understood the feelings and the message, but the cries and calls made were so strange… Perhaps His had gotten into a bad kill or had been hurt by the dark Fur-Thief-Hunters? He would have to advise Swift Paw and Light Eye to be more cautious… and remind them of consequences if His were to get hurt in their care. He licked His and turned to follow, on guard for any who might be fool enough to attack His.

“I-I have to find th-them Kuma-they HAVE to be here….s-somewhere!”

The blood fled from his face, cold helped by fear. Dashing toward the West he ignored the stabbing feel of frozen rocks, hidden branches, and snow. The only thing that mattered was proving he wasn’t alone. Who knew how long it would be till someone came? What if they had and didn’t find him? Maybe they were just so far off…? Time flashed by and he hadn’t found any but a few tribes that seemed to fear him as he ran by with his companion or revere him as some kind of spirit…. He flew through Quebec… Ontario… Alberta… the Rockies… Nunavut… British Columbia… Nothing…. No one… Pa-France… England… Portugal… Even Russia would have been someone… He froze, Kumajirou unhappily panting as he stood next to him and sniffing all over, shoving a bit. It hurt… He was suddenly so empty and it rushed him at once. He was drowning. His face burned, especially his eyes. It hurt… it hurt! The pressure kept building on his chest till he thought it should cave. He couldn’t take it… he couldn’t be that alone… not when he knew what a family was… He was too different from his people to go to them… What could he do?

A rough warmth swiped across his face, reminding him of his worried protector’s presence. Struggling to slow his shallow and rapid breathes, Matthew gave a weak smile. He wouldn’t be alone… No he had Kumajirou… and his furred family… He could feel the Wild howling and clawing at him to return. Join his Pack, Herd, Brother-Bear… They would keep him sane… Breaths were still swift, but calming slowly… He flung his arms around the large soft neck. The bear let him cuddle close and carefully pulled a paw around him pulling him closer. It took time but in the embrace he eventually calmed and began to notice things… Throbbing was starting to peek from his numb feet… His muscles were tightening and his lower abdomen felt tight. He had to go…. Gently he spoke to the bear, realizing the animal’s confused eyes that he was speaking English…. After the bear released and escorted him to a safe area, he began to fish under his loincloth to relieve himself.

Tensing he couldn’t find it…. Terrified and hoping it had just been because he had gotten used to his… dream-future’s(?) size or the cold, he lifted the cloth and his heart stopped. Kumajirou turned to his charge and tilted his head, shoving his snout lower for a better sense of the strange smell. Both bear and boy were frozen in shock. It just was not there…. And not only not there… but it was…. A different part altogether. Suddenly the world went dark.

When he started to come to it was snowing gently, falling like a waltz. His leggings were a bit stiff and the pressure from his bladder was gone… Had he…? Before he could continue his thoughts, the swaying and soft warmth caught his thoughts. He was moving… and it felt like he was already quick on the way toward the Easternmost of his lands. A gentle rumble from below alerted him to his moving transport as Kumajirou. Kuma was carrying him. He smiled and patted the bear, which stopped and kneeled letting his rider down. He began to speak then realized the bear didn’t quite understand English and took a moment to remember and listen to the memory-voice murmuring to him since he woke. He growled softly and nuzzled the bear’s cheek, squirming at the slightly uncomfortable feeling of the dried urine on his loincloth…. Shivering he glanced at the cloth.

“Why did it change? You aren’t in heat or ready for one.”

Red dashed across his… no… h-her cheeks… Shaking her head back to forth, she looked worried and embarrassed at the curious bear. Her growls were fainter than before.

“I… I don’t know. I’m as surprised as you…”

The bear grunted and cleaned her, then nuzzled her to continue moving. After what seemed like months but surely was only a few weeks thanks to their superbeastly-superhuman existence, they reached the last “visited” area of the Europeans…. The wolf pack was happy to see their pup safe, though a bit confused as to how he had suddenly become female. They took it easily, though some of the males kept wanting to scent him… It had taken the second week for her to somewhat come to a decision on her gender surprise. It was dangerous to be female now…. And especially with who would be colonizing her… eventually. And how it went the last time… Would they treat her the same or keep her caged? How would they domesticate her? Did they also have the dream-future? Or was it just a dream? This was something she couldn’t risk. She had to make sure she kept it secret, keep her safe. A strange feeling like a warm breath on her ear had her violet eyes gaze toward the Icelandic settlement. Someone…. Someone was there now. Someone that probably shouldn’t be there… It didn’t feel like Portugal… but it felt… around then and there were none of those fishing posts yet…

Shaking her head she warned the pack and Kuma about the new Fur-Theif-Hunters and that she’d be investigating after the hunt. Luckily no animals seemed sexist or thought her incapable of a hunt. That evening they took down a good sized moose, though not without a few injuries… Light Eye, the pale blue eyed Beta Male had likely a bruised rib if not cracked along with one other pack member getting a nasty gash. Matthew waited till the cubs were full before joining in on the feast, happy to be offered a bit of the heart for her contribution and subsequent injury. She had tried to dodge but had taken a hard kick to her side. The area was a dark color already and her hip throbbed, probably fractured a bit. Lucky for her, she healed quickly. Blood was something she hadn’t had in awhile… no that dream was wrong…? She threw the thought away and knawed on the cool heart, offering some to Kuma. The bear declined and left to go hunt his own meal, finding his cub-sister safe enough in the pack’s care.

Once full and with the return of the polar bear, Matthew made her way slinking toward the should have been an empty outpost. Keeping far enough she observed the obvious signs of inhabitants… and the odd feeling of Another. It was wrong though, not Hot spice men… so the dream must be a lie… Kuma didn’t remember…. And… she didn’t know, but she did spot the small fire isolated with one lone figure… the feeling of the Otherness similar to her dream feel of the Civilizer and Browed Monster. It would only be good to investigate… cautiously…

Keeping to the shadows, she kept her brother away and crawled in the snow happy to sneak about the soft ice. The fur cape kept her mostly dry, but her body didn’t get too bothered by the cold… just her hip had her limping and a bit slower. She peeked from a tree to see a snow haired male reading… while lighting a bit of a kill… It… smelled good and… somewhat familiar like in her dream… There were odd-looking furs in the shade… She could probably take them, but was it worth the risk from the Other? A mountain spewing hot popped into her mind and she shook it away physically. That was this Other, the hot mountain…. She wanted to get closer, but it… Kuma won’t be happy. And she didn’t want to risk the dream things hurting him…. But if she was quick she might be able to get some of the furs… or maybe some of the kill? Mind made up, she lowered herself and crept to the furs, if anything she had already fed… and extra furs she didn’t have to “make” or take from her lands’ Fur-Theif-Hunters would be better…. Less trouble for her, Kuma, and the Pack.

[Ísland]

Ísland burrowed deeper into his furs, unused to this biting cold for long periods of time. Still, he had his mission and he wouldn't abandon it, no matter how long it took. Vaguely, he wondered what would happen once Norge came looking for him, what he would do when he found Canada. He didn't even know what Canada was like in this time period, whether he was the nervous, quiet kid everyone forgot or the wild toddler more at home among polar bears and beavers than anything humanoid. And just what was he planning to do with the kid?

Was he really going to expect, to hope, that his brothers and the other Nordics would help care for the young nation? Ísland shook his head. They would help. He had to believe it. And if they didn't...would he choose this sometimes friend over his family? He snorted. It wasn't like this time was kind to him. Wasn't as though he had something to lose. He shuddered at the thought but shoved it into the furthest corner of his mind. He could deal with the 'what if's of his decision later. For now, he had to focus on the present. Plan for the future when Canada was safely sleeping in his house. Not before.

Ísland's sharp hearing caught sounds just beyond the fire's glow and he froze. He tried to recall his long unused hunting training but it was difficult considering he was a fisherman and used to hunting only small game. He had no idea what larger game sounded like. But this...this sound was small. Soft. Giant bears didn't move like that, did they? Most animals avoided fires, that was why they were used. But Canada's bears had always been weird, he remembered that from both the past and the future. Deciding that either way he needed to get a good look at what was happening, he slowly shifted in his blankets until he was facing the sound.

At the light's edge was Canada, exactly as Ísland remembered from his trips over the centuries to this land. Tiny, blond, covered in makeshift fur clothes with a quite feral look. No, not quite. There was something different this time. The Canada he'd left behind the first time, back when Nor first shoved them both into an alliance with Danmark, was more skittish. It took almost an hour of Ísland ignoring the food or fur to convince the toddler he really could have it. True, Canada could've been watching him for that long but Ísland didn't think so. Plucking up his courage, he slowly stood, palms out in the universal gesture of peace and said one simple, shakey word.

"Canada?"

[Canada Nouvelle France]

The slight rustle of furs went unnoticed as she had just gotten within an arm's reach of the furs that were unlike the ones her friends grew or the cut and changed of the Fur-Thief-Hunters. The snow gently pressed against her sides like trenches helping along with the white pelt to camouflage her pale skin and matted hair. Her heart beat steadily but slightly quicker from the feeling of butterflies fluttering inside. A steady hand slowly touched the thick fur, feeling the texture cautiously in case of hidden quills or spurs. As her confidence in the lack of a defensive mechanism on the fur grew, she slunk closer and began to wrap her hands around the furs to try and ghost them away or flee if necessary.

The sound of almost inaudible snow crunching and furs shifting had her pale violet eyes go even lighter and dart to the slowly standing Hot Mountain. Fading in color like her eyes, her skin became like snow as what felt like Cold Man's hands roaming inside her chest freezing it all. She froze watching the raised, yet unarmed hands. There should be something in them? She didn't dare move or breathe. What if Hot Mountain blew and tried to take her like the moose? Or worse how the Fur-Thief-Keepers had tried? She could feel the faint anger of her brother, who was surely stalking his way behind Hot Mountain, not yet rushing as the feeling of her-ness hung about him. It was that feeling that drew her toward him fighting her typical fleeing mentality... She wanted to stay. But Hot Mountain... he couldn't be trusted, right?

"Canada?"

The male Other's sounds-words made her belly warm and the ice hurting her chest thaw a little. She liked that word... that name? It was what she was called sometimes in the dream. It was what she wanted to be called. And his tone... it wasn't like the bad nightmare parts or how Fur-Thief-Hunters and Keepers sounded when they spoke. She wanted more of it, but couldn't. He was dangerous like the thing he was named for. A very hot mountain that would hurt if he got red topped. It was sudden and unexpected when the mountain would heat, but also somewhat had a warning... She felt he wouldn't get hot to her, but how could she risk it? Hot mountains didn't stop at one little thing... it swallowed and hotted everything. How could she risk the pack? Or brother? But even then.... she wanted to. Just to be close to him. That felt right. He felt right in a way that brother did... but different. She wanted to be under him and cared for, to care for him. The soft whimpers and chuffing crept out as she felt brother's nearness.

"No hurt Hot Mountain... wait... just stalk.... no bite-claw... no kill... yet... feels... feels like me... Not Hurters-Thieves-Keepers-Hunters."

The sameness kept her staring up wide eyed and barely breathing. Would he think she was going to attack from her speaking? She knew brother was behind Hot Mountain now, not close enough for him to know but enough if he needed to grab him in strong jaws or claws and give her time to run. The plea must have given him pause to let her wait and see what the feeling he gave with his sounds meant.... She shuddered at the warmth of the hot on one side of her fighting the dark cold on her other side. The numb not feeling of the snow began to go away as the hot made it melt away into a general sting No Howl would set to lick away. Her breath came back to her, not realizing she had lost it and she took a subtle step back. There was an invisible rope tied to her inside chest to Hot Mountain that seemed to tug her closer to him at the step. What would he do? Would he make her feel good? Say more words?


She wanted him to. To make sounds that warmed like the hot, like the soft and firm press of pack or brother all over in the dens, like the strong tongue of a mother wolf or brother giving a bath or love. Looking at Hot Mountain's hands, she felt they would make that feeling if they touched her or groomed her. That pack-brother feeling. Not how they did but how the sameness he had touching her sameness would. She knew it would. Flashes of dream hit her and she couldn't help but flinch at the sun grass colored fur man smiling-Touch Man or the grass eyed monster faced man- Tea Bug? nodded. A spirit-like image of Hot Mountain smiling popped and she looked back to the familiar colored eyes. The hot made them dance, but... They were like the water her or ice her. They had her eye color or close to it. The sky flowering color. Things that look alike were pack... was he her pack? Is that why he felt the same?

Her head was starting to hurt. This was a lot to think... more than when she had to hide from Keepers or Hunters... Brother was not happy staying, but he did quietly. She felt his want to keep her from the strange Hot Mountain and his own curiosity at the sameness he could feel. She recognized from the dream the posture.... it was a No Hurting sign... that Hot Mountain would... make noise and sounds... wanting her to too or to not make any. It was confusing... and she wish she knew what to do... She wanted Hot Mountain to make sense, but he was too much like the Hunters... not like Pack or Herd or Flock. Watching would be what could help... she somehow knew if she stayed she could learn to know... more flashes of Hot Mountain were like the spirit one before and they seemed to help calm her nerves. Brother still seemed not happy but was waiting. She slunk low to the snow, feeling the pressure of the ice push against her as she waited.