In the woods (Countryhuman)

4

Papa! Papa! Can we go see Grandpa?

Not today. I don't want you walking out there in the rain.

But what if he's lonely? O-or needs help? What if he gets hurt?!

Germany sat at the table, continuing to look around at the recently remodeled house. From the stories his father had told and the eventually run-down of the place once the owner left, it was completely different. Down with the fence, the rubble of it having been cleared away come the past two weeks, and up with the green blades of grass on the lawn again. The once broken shingles and bars on the windows were gone, the outer shell of the house looked a lot more welcoming.

The house was a lot more cozier inside. The atmosphere was light, much lighter when Germany looked back at when he was little. His dad always told him that bad things had happened in here, and to stay far away. That, along with the haunted house feeling, was enough to keep him far away and drag the other neighborhood kids out of dares. Russia being one of them. . . A lot of the times.

But the aromas coming from the plate in front was helping distract from that. The salad was standard, but the chicken slices had a unique tangy taste due to their sauce. (Not me describing my favorite meal.) Off to the side was a more familiar taste, something America called 'double-baked potatoes' and 'cream corn'. The rolls were buttered, and were clearly homemade. And all good.

The conversation was silenced by the food, stopping when Japan commented on it. New Zealand paused a forkful of the buttery corn to reply back. Canada nodded as well, having drowned half of his plate in maple syrup which ended up making a weird combo once it hit the pinapple sauce on the chicken.

Aussie looked prepared to just rip into a chunk of the bird, seeming to silently challenge his brother America. Both were nearly shot down by the deathly quiet glare of Zee.

Emphasis on nearly.

American proceeded to cram a decent chunk of the bird down his throat, shredding through it easily. Zee's disappointment could be felt from where even Germany was sitting, which was near the other side of the long table.

Canada felt it too, chuckling slightly.

Japan hadn't paid attention, delicately making sure her bird was sliced up into nice little bites. South Africa, or Zar as she preferred, was the opposite. She'd only cut the last second.

Russia was busy wondering how the Maple-leafed flag obtained so much syrup, China concerned on how the red and white country was able to eat potatoes drowned in syrup.

But something seemed off to Germany.

"Hey America. I think you got something in your teeth."

Still sporting his shades, the Freedom country looked at Germany. "Yeah. Probably my chicken." He lightly picked at them, paying no attention to Germany's sharp gaze before snagging after chunk of the bird.

"Um. You didn't tell us that you had fangs Ame."

America swiftly swallowed as to explain.
"Well. I thought every flag had them."
"Clearly not!"
"I don't get how this is a big deal." Ame retorted, Aussie adding a nugget of info. "Would explain why Mom didn't have any."

Canada pipped in.
"Same. I didn't know it was a major issue. Does that mean something is wrong?"
"I-I. No. It's just, unusual. We've only had one other country here to date that had fangs, but they left before I got to meet them."