England sat on the porch of a small wooden house, the evening sun sinking behind the endless trees. Little America tugged at his sleeve, eyes wide with the boundless curiosity only a child could have. England sighed, setting down his teacup, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“Ah, so you’re here again, are you? Always running about, never a moment’s peace with you… Still, I suppose I don’t mind the company. Sit down, lad.”