AN- Hello hello hello! I know that I'm still working on Thread Of Thoughts, but I had a great idea and I couldn't just leave it in my head to annoy me! So please do enjoy, loves!~

Chapter 1- First week of August

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring moons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. Often at night there is lightning, but it quivers all alone. There is no thunder, no relieving rain. These are strange and breathless days, the dog days, when people are led to do things they are sure to be sorry for after.

One day at a time, not so very long ago, three things happened and at first there appeared to be no connection between them.

At dawn, Scott Kirkland set out on his horse for the wood at the edge of the village of Hetalia. He was going there, as he did every ten years, to meet his two younger brothers, Arthur and Patrick.

At noontime, Alfred F. Jones, whose family owned the Hetalia wood, lost his patience at last and decided to think about running away.

And at sunset a stranger appeared at the Jones' gate. He was looking for someone, but he didn't say who.

No connection, you would agree. But things can come together in strange ways. The wood was at the center, the hub of the wheel. All wheels must have a hub. A ferris wheel has one, as the sun is the hub of the wheeling calendar. Fixed points they are, and best left undisturbed, for without them, nothing holds together. But sometimes people find this out too late.

AN- Okay! I know this is short, but no worries! I'm getting chapter 2 done as I type! Review! They are my pencil to my paper!