Hunting With Papa France {France and Canada}

[France]

Autumn of 1605, Port Royal settlement

There was a certain feeling of excitement and adventure to be had from creating settlements in a brave new world; from having nothing around for miles other than endless expanses of wilderness. There was a thrill to being so far away from home and away from help. Out in the dangerous and sometimes inhospitable "New World," only the most clever and quick to learn survived. Or so Francis always delighted in reminding himself.

It only stood to reason that a nation such as himself would love to explore and claim new territories. His culture was a rich and noble one, full to the brim of beauty and class. Why wouldn’t he want to expand his influence to other areas of the world? Remote places such as this - the wild-lands of New France- would only benefit from proper colonization and French influence. And of course Francis himself was not without benefits from venturing out to colonize this place. These lands were full of natural resources, a lot of which were becoming more scarce in his homeland. Like the beavers that could be found in great quantities here. There was certainly fortune to be had in the fur-trade, and while he was here exploring and helping his people set up a permanent settlement, the bright eyed French nation was more than happy to cash in on these plentiful resources.

As exciting and alluring as the idea of colonization was, it was not without its problems. And problems were exactly what Francis and his few settlers were having now. In fact, they had been having these problems since last year, when they had first settled the Saint Croix Island. To put it mildly, Francis had been quick to discover that the weather and temperature in this region were not just like back home. Over the course of the winter, his men and him had suffered through some of the worst weather conditions Francis could recall. There were points he was sure he would have frozen to death had he not been a country. As it was, how many men had not been so fortunate? And that was not even getting into the nasty business that was the “land sickness” they had been forced to deal with. Fancying himself and his people as dashingly beautiful and hygienic, -as silly as such a notion could be when you were trapped on a ship for so long- Francis had found it all too disturbing to watch his people start forming downright nasty looking wounds and losing teeth. There had not been all that many people to begin with, and losing so many over the winter was rather upsetting and disheartening.

So the settlement had been moved to its current location- an area that they called “Port Royal.” Or so it had been dubbed as such by Champlain. In Francis’ personal opinion, there were many other names that would have worked just as good if not better. He would have been partial to naming it “Fort Francis,” or maybe “Bay of Bonnefoy.” Of course, the odds that his fellow Frenchmen would have agreed to those names were not good. Champlain in particular might have had issues with Francis naming the area had been the first to discover. As far as his companions were concerned, Francis was just another explorer, here for the same reason as all of them were. Besides his king and a small number of his king’s closest consorts, nobody knew he was the personification of France itself. Which Francis found annoying at times, since he was sure that people would listen to him more if they knew who they were really dealing with.

It was cold this particular morning, as the pompous French nation made his way out of the simplistic wooden structure that made up his house. It could be considered ungodly early- the sun had only just barely began to color the sky- but already the small settlement was awakening and his countrymen were busying themselves with the morning activities. Wood was being chopped for the fires, food was being prepared for breakfast, and a few of Francis’ companions were already preparing to go off on the morning hunt.

Which was exactly what the chilly and excitable blue-eyed nation himself was planning on doing. Once he found his little hunting partner. He smiled slightly despite the cold, thinking about the adorable little nation he had found last year; his little "New France", as he liked to think of him. The kid had helped him map out and explore so much already last year. Of course he had taken Matthew with him when they had moved the settlement. It just would not have seemed right at all to leave the little boy back at Saint Croix all alone. Since finding the small blonde haired child, France had taken it upon himself to look after the kid. He would teach him all the important things in life and make sure to impart all of his culture’s important values and ideals on little Matthew. He would be like…a big brother figure for the kid! For as long as he could anyways.

“Matthew!“ Shouldering his arquebus, Francis made his way off the front porch and around the side of his home. Where could that boy be? “Matthew, où sont toi, mon petit garçon?”
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((I don't know as much about this time and event, so feel free to let me know if I got any facts wrong. We all know how bad internet sources can be with information. Here are some translations, even though I think you know French already? ))

*Arquebus (Is not a French word, but is unheard of by most)= primative musket-like gun
*Où sont toi, mon petit garçon? = Where are you, my little boy

[maple]

Matthew’s time had been monopolized much that morning.

He had risen long before the settlers of Port Royal had – He was used to leaving the warmth of a bed long before the sun had even begun to rise into the sky, and before even the faintest hints of pink burst over the horizon. That had been when he had always woken with his natives. It was what the young, wintery land was used to. He didn’t complain at the hour, nor did he complain at the cold that was already beginning to bite at his toes.

It would snow soon… The blonde boy could feel it, and could smell it on the wind. He needed to help the new settlers, else they wouldn’t survive this oncoming winter. It could turn as disastrous as the one before.

The chief of the tribe that had been assisting the French settlers, Chief Membertou of the Mi’kmaq, had been the one to monopolize his time in the early hours. The old Native had asked for his time, and attention, that particular day and had led him along the shores of the newly founded Port Royal. The young land, with his Kermode bear in tow, had followed alongside of him, listening to what the wiser had to tell him.

“Kanata,” he had began as they stopped, the frigid waters almost able to lap around Matthew’s bare feet – He still couldn’t get into this idea of hard-soled shoes that the French country had been trying to introduce him to. “Be careful with these strange men… We help them, this is true, but they help us in return. We do not trust them.”

“I trust Papa…”[/color] Matthew had breathed into the cold morning air, and almost cringed under the gaze he received from old Membertou.

The older man had given him such a hard look…and then his wizened gaze softened as a hand, sun-kissed skin pulled tight, settled upon his head and threaded digits through the blonde locks. “Then… That is enough for me. You are young, Kanata, but you know what is best in your heart.”

Matthew had been sent off after that, and now found himself running like the excited child he was to go meet and greet Francis for the morning as he tended to do. The colonists usually paid him little heed, seeing him as just a small child that had either tagged along with a parent, or a child that had been found wandering too far away from the growing settlements further South in the other parts of the America’s. Matthew preferred it that way, truth be told. No one would stop him and question him this way. Well. Almost no one. A few settlers would occasionally grab his arm and scold him for running through the settlement, but none of these men knew him. Not like the Native Tribes he preferred to sneak back to at night, instead of remaining within the confines of Port Royal.

Kanata was wild and free – He couldn’t be chained to any one place for an extended length of time. It just wasn’t in the child’s nature. Not yet, anyway.

With the chill of winter creeping upon them, it was a perfect time to catch some deer and elk as they began to move towards warmer locations. In the early hours like this, they would be growing weary of their own hunt and be retiring to hidden alcoves for the day. Matthew knew the places these creatures preferred to dwell in their migration. He could show Francis all of the best places! He would keep these settlers fed, clothed, and warm through this winter… These people were new, exciting, and brought with them such promises that Matthew found impossible to turn aside, even with warnings from Membertou. Even as their population of beaver began to steadily decline (it wasn’t enough for Matthew to notice just yet – But he had noticed some rivers he remembered being much smaller flooding over. He disregarded it, however)… Even as his natives began falling ill to unexplainable sicknesses. The blonde boy just let it gloss over him and disregarded it as nothing.

Where was he this morning? Indigo eyes looked around as he stopped in the middle of the settlement and placed his hands upon his hips. Papa was usually waiting for him-Ah! There he was! An excited noise bubbled up in his throat, and the small child hurried closer.

”Papa!” He called and waved his hands in an excited manner as he drew up closer, insistently raising his hands upwards to the blonde man, almost begging to be picked up.

He bounced on the front balls of his feet as he continued to hold his hands up towards the older Nation, and tried to contain his excitement. Matthew had even dressed for the occasion that morning – No oversized bag-dress for him today! No, he was wearing the clothes of natives, deerskin wrapped tightly around him to keep out the morning chill. He knew, deep in his heart, Francis might disapprove of the clothes… But he would be so much warmer!

”Are we going hunting this morning? I’m ready to show you where to go! You won’t be disappointed!” The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them, or speak in the French that he had been learning, too excited in that moment to remember some of the small things he had been taught.

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(Oh, no! You did wonderful! Everything was right here! I didn’t know about the “land sickness” that the people were going through, so that was a fun trip to google~ Somehow, my books all left that out. *wink*
As for French, my fiancé is the one that knows more French than me, so translations will always be lovely. I was pretty proud to see that I knew that much on my own.

Note : The words spoken in ”italics” are Matthew speaking in Native Tongue. I have no ability to translate 98% of that, so… This seemed like the easiest way to deal with it.)[/size]

[France]

”Papa!”

The yell immediately drew Francis’ attention; his blue eyes coming to rest on the familiar shape of the small boy he had been scanning the camp for. He smiled at the child’s excitement as he drew closer. “There you are mon petite.” He studied the little nation’s clothing with distaste, overlooking the little hands that were reaching up towards him at first. With his little deerskin outfit, the kid looked so wild and unrefined. So native. Not at all like the proper young boy France would have preferred him to appear as. Then again, what could he expect when the boy was off with those natives so often. As kind as the Mi’kmaq chief seemed, he was still not French, and lacked the civilization and refinement that France figured Matthew needed.

Finally realizing that Matthew was reaching up towards him, France swiftly grabbed the boy and lifted him up. Giving the little nation’s attire another critical look, he reached up and grabbed his own blue feathered hat off, dropping it onto Matthew’s head. He would let the crude native clothing slip for now. He wanted to get hunting while the morning was so young, and taking the time to try and re-outfit his companion in proper clothes would just delay that. He had to wonder how Matthew could be warm in those skins though, and with poor footwear as well.

”Are we going hunting this morning? I’m ready to show you where to go! You won’t be disappointed!”

That was a good little hunting partner, ready for action no matter the hour. France gave Matthew a look of approval before hoisting the boy up and onto his shoulders. “Oui, we are off to hunt, and I am sure you won’t disappoint. I can teach you more French while we are at it.”

The blonde francophone's eyes slipped downwards, to the small white bear that always seemed to follow Matthew around. He had forgotten what the boy had called it, or if he had even bothered to name the creature. It was quite the odd sort of animal to have as a pet, if it could indeed be called as such. It must have been a native thing, to keep wild animals as pets. Oh well, whatever the case, let the boy have his fun. Besides, the strange bear was too small to be a threat to anyone, and never bothered the people in the camp at all. Francis had to wonder what they would do with it when that cub got bigger though. Hopefully it wouldn’t get too large and hard to manage.

If little Matthew ever went to his place for a visit in the future, he would be sure to show him some more traditional animal companions. Like cats, dogs, horses, and of course one of his carrier pigeons. He had a whole flock of "Pierres" back home in Paris. And pigeons were smart, so they were not only good pets, but useful ones too. Perhaps he would give Matthew one some day as a present or something.

“What’s your friend’s name, Matthew?” France decided to ask, ready to offer some good strong French names up in case Matthew had not named it. He wasn’t even sure what gender the beast was, but it looked like a "Jean-Louis" to him. Or maybe a "Gustave." That was a good strong sounding name. Of course Francis never really liked to put much thought into names for animals, as his birds proved. It was just as well with his birds. He couldn’t tell most of them apart anyways. Plus, coming up with unique names for each one would have meant he had to remember more names and which bird was which.

Making sure he had his hunting blade with him first, Francis started off towards the woods, Matthew still perched on his shoulders. Reaching the edge of the settlement, France grabbed onto Matthew again and carefully lifted him from his shoulders and set him down. His petite hunting companion had claimed he would show the way, so France was going to hold him to that offer. Last year, the small child had proven that he knew these lands well, having helped Francis explore the area. It stood to reason, since this was his land after all. He was tied to this harsh wild environment just as Francis was to his plot of land back across the ocean. They were in the same boat, so to say, only France was much older and physically larger than his eager companion.

“Lead the way. You know these lands better than I do by far.” He gave the boy an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
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((Short post is short. I have so much to do this week and I was just eager to get something out for you to work with while I can. ))

Mon petite = Used here as a term of endearment. The French use it kind of like we would “little guy.”
Oui = Yes. (Which I am sure you already knew, but just in case you didn’t, I included it.)

[maple]

The small, growing land hardly noticed the critical looks he had been receiving from the Frenchman, especially upon being scooped into the strong arms. Matthew had giggled at being lift and kicked his feet in his excitement – He loved being picked up, held, carried… Anything, if it was at the older blonde’s hands. He could barely even contain his excitement as the large blue hat – Papa’s hat – was placed upon his head. Truly an honour! In response, Canada made a large display of turning his head left and right, as if modeling the hat for the man (something he had caught him doing once or twice before. He assumed it was something one was meant to do).

“Oui, we are off to hunt, and I am sure you won’t disappoint. I can teach you more French while we are at it.” He heard France speaking as he was hoist even higher, onto shoulders now and he let the smile on his face widen even more.

”Really? You’ll keep teaching me?” While he was getting quite good at speaking the native tongue of the visiting people, there were still conversations that flew over his head. He was finding, at a young age, that he rather disliked being left out of something, especially when he was certain he heard his name mentioned once or twice. ”And I won’t! Promise! I’ll make sure you and your friends are all well-fed this winter!”

Matthew reached downward a bit and made sure he hugged his arms tight around Francis’ neck as the man began to walk, and wordlessly looked to his bear companion. He made an odd noise in his throat, something between a whine and a growl, that seemed to get it’s attention. Fluffy white ears lift, and the dark eyes turned away from where they had been apparently scrutinizing France’s shoes. It yawned, as if this gesture alone was almost too much to bear, and absently raised a paw to scratch at it’s short muzzle.

“What’s your friend’s name, Matthew?”

Canada gave him an odd look from his perch before laughing. ”Silly Papa! It’s Kumajiro! I already told you that… Didn’t I?”

The bear snorted quietly, seemingly pleased with it’s name being remembered correctly for once, and lumbered to it’s paws to fall into step with the pair. He wasn’t about to be left behind, and judging by Matthew’s consistent little noises at it, the young land wouldn’t have had it any other way. Canada nodded, pleased by this action and rest his small chin atop France’s blonde head. He let out a content sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, simply enjoying the closeness – His natives didn’t treat him like this. He couldn’t recall ever being lift and carried like this by them.

Come to think on it… They had been treating him a little differently now anyway. He frowned a little and squirmed on the slim shoulders. Chief Membertou wasn’t treating him exceptionally different, but the people themselves… He had heard them whispering over the fire at night, talking about how he didn’t look like them, but looked like the strange invaders that brought with them disease… Though young, Matthew did fret just a little that his relationship with the natives was changing. It left an unsettling feeling in the young boy’s stomach. Preferring not to think on it at that moment, he visibly shook himself to rid his mind of the thought and settled for snuggling into Francis.

Too soon the ride was over, and he was being set upon the ground again. For a moment he gave him a confused look, almost as if he had forgotten what he had promised before indigo eyes lit up. So it was his time to be helpful, right? Feeling bare, he buried his hands into the fur of his bear companion and almost hoist the creature into his arms. It was comical, to say the least, to see a small boy lift something that was almost as big as he was to drag, like it was an overgrown teddy, but he seemed to do it with ease.

“Lead the way. You know these lands better than I do by far.”

”That’s right!” Matthew chirped slightly, releasing Kumajiro with one hand so he could push the large hat on his head out of his eyes, enough so he could see again as he set his features with as serious of a look as a six year old child could. ”I’ll be the leader now! You just stay behind me, Papa! I’ll protect you from anything out there, ‘kay? Kumagichi will help too, won’t you, Kumadero?”

The small Kermode Bear merely whined in response and gently pawed the blonde boy’s cheek.

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(Pfff, your post was wonderful~ You never have to apologize for length either, hun. *u* This kind of length is a real treat for me. I’m used to players giving me three paragraphs tops…and never long ones like this. I’m always excited with your posts!)

[France]

France watched with mild amusement as the small boy held onto the fluffy white bear. It was an image that reminded him of the children back in his own homelands, in particular, the little girls he would see sometimes carrying dolls. The young lads back in his borders did not usually carry dolls of course, but they would sometimes carry other types of stuffed toys. Especially when they were as young as Matthew looked. The strange question as to where the bear came from, briefly popped into his head as he studied the scene. He was quick to assume that the native people had given the animal to the boy. It was the only thing that made sense to him at the moment, after all, bears did not usually come right up to people or nations alike, did they? He decided not to think about it anymore for the time being. Those deer were not going to go shooting themselves after all, and France was hoping to take one down while the day was still young.

”That’s right!”

The boy seemed as eager as Francis was to get out there. Watching as Matthew pushed his hat out of his eyes and attempted a serious expression, France decided against re-claiming the headwear. The young nation really did look cute with it on, despite the fact that it was far too large to fit his head. And if it somehow made him feel important, then the older blonde saw no harm in letting him prance around with it on a little longer.

”I’ll be the leader now! You just stay behind me, Papa! I’ll protect you from anything out there, ‘kay? Kumagichi will help too, won’t you, Kumadero?”

France blinked for a moment in confusion. Hadn’t Matthew said the bear’s name was Kumajiro? Either he had misheard the child, or Matthew was using nicknames for the bear. Strange nicknames, that did not so closely resemble the original name. He decided not to ask and just go with it. Kids would be kids, and if Matthew was okay with calling the animal by odd names, then he was too. Hopefully the bear would not prove to be problematic to hunt with. Imagining the cub charging out at any deer they might encounter was frustrating just to think about. Yet Matthew seemed to have some control over the beast, so maybe it would behave and not ruin their attempts at bringing down game.

“Ah, will you now, Kumagichiro?” France questioned the small bear with a slight laugh, not at all expecting the bear to reply or understand a word he said. He simply aimed to indulge Matthew, who was so fond of the creature. Reaching down briefly her ruffled the white fur on the animal's head before turning his attention back to the woods again.

Following Matthew into the trees, France let his eyes wander to the scenery. This really was a gorgeous area. Definitely worthy of French colonization. There was an abundance of pine trees in every direction, but they were not so thickly clumped together as to block out light. A few of the species of plant Francis found himself staring at, he was fairly certain could not be found back in his own borders. Shivering slightly from the chilly morning air, he pulled his coat tighter around himself.

The sun was starting to cast more light on the day, but it was still cold out, and the ground remained cloaked in fog. With the onset of autumn, days had been getting colder and colder again; not a good sign at all. With luck, Francis and the other settlers would have an easier time this winter than last. Last winter had been a downright disaster. Hopefully this time around they would keep warmer, healthier and better fed.

“Matthew, Qu'est-ce qu'on chasse, ce matin?” Francis asked the child in the lead, wanting to test his French out a bit. “What are we hunting this morning?” He had yet to see any signs of deer, so he saw no harm in a bit of chit-chat while they trudged on through the woods. He would be satisfied with many different answers to the question itself. He was initially planning on hunting down a deer- un cerf- but he would settle for elk, or just about anything else that looked worth the bullet to take it down. Not small game though, not this morning. For now at least, the rabbits and small furry animals that inhabited the area were safe.
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((My French is probably appalling tonight, if you happen to know a better conjugation for that bit, always feel free to let me know. <3 ))

Qu'est-ce qu'on chasse, ce matin? = What are we hunting this morning?

un cerf = a deer

[maple]

Indigo eyes, trained forward for the time being as he continued to haul the oversized bear (despite it’s quiet little noises of protest – for something that didn’t look too pleased to be drug along, it certainly didn’t put up much of a fuss or fight against the child), didn’t seem to notice that he was being given a look. Matthew had fallen silent for just a moment, as if he was getting the feel of the area around them before he turned and smiled up at the Frenchman again as if nothing had happened. It was in fleeting moments that the new colony displayed a hint of being similar to Francis – Those moments were few and far inbetween in this young stage, however. He was usually far too preoccupied with dashing after butterflies, or trying to catch hold of the frills on Francis’ coat to care about even imagining growing up.

Right – Now wasn’t a time for games : It was time to help his Papa!

Kumajiro whined a little at the petting to his head and pawed at the larger nation’s hand a bit before affectionately licking at it. Matthew took this as a wonderful sign. He had sworn to the bear at some point that if it couldn’t trust someone, neither could he. But if he was eager enough to do that… Kanata giggled and snuggled his bear close, effectively cutting off the furry creature’s oxygen supply in his own form of a bear-hug (alas, it earned nothing more than extra squirming from said animal – Kumajiro was too used to this behavior).

”You’re such a good friend, Kumagoki,” Matthew mumbled underbreath before hooking what served as his teddy bear beneathe his front legs to drag again as he began to lead the Frenchman deeper into the woods.

He was quiet in the beginning of the walk, listening to the soft noise of leaves beneathe their feet and the occasional snapping twig in the distance. Both he and the Kermode bear would pick up at each one, sometimes freezing all-together to monitor what it was. It was becoming rapidly more obvious that, despite his demure appearance, Matthew knew exactly what he was doing out in the woods. It was boggling to imagine that a five year old, in appearance anyway, could hold their own, but he was proving it more and more with every passing season that he spent with the Frenchman.

”Matthew, Qu'est-ce qu'on chasse, ce matin?”

The blonde child almost crossed his eyes as he concentrated on the French being spoken to him – He knew what that meant. Just one word at a time… His small lips moved, hidden from view of the older man, sounding out each word as he turned his memory over, looking for the meaning behind every syllable. His nose wrinkled slightly as he got hung up on one. No, it didn’t mean that… That didn’t even make SENSE…

”What are we hunting this morning?”

THAT was what it meant. He stuck his tongue out at Kumajiro before he turned on his foot, not even wincing as a twig dug particularly deep into the sole of his bare foot – Perhaps they were more callus than they looked.

“We’re going closer to the…” he frowned, thinking of the proper word – He knew what his natives called it, but what did the French? “..the vallées ? Oui, vallées… The deer are resting there!”

This didn’t seem to satisfy the boy, as he huffed a bit and stuck his lower lip out in a pout. France would want him to speak in more French than that… Such a small amount was not showcasing that he really was practicing the language in his spare time, as he had been asked to do.

“Il se réchauffe. Le cerf se sera endormi dès ... Ainsi, ils seront lents dans la vallée pour vous de chasse!” He seemed much happier with this and even bounced on his small feet excitedly, almost as if he was expecting a reward for speaking that much.

It was getting better, one had to admit, but his French sounded peculiar in comparison to how France spoke – The accent was more nasal, and didn’t flow the same way. Whether it was just a stuffy-nosed child trying to speak it, or if this was genuinely what Matthew would sound like as he aged was unknown, but it was far from the more fluid and “pretty” sounding French that he heard Francis speak. It was enough that Kumajiro’s ears would sometimes flatten, and he would make a whine akin to a wince.

“Is… That okay to you, Papa?” He added as an afterthought, having to push up the large hat again as it began to slide down to hide his face.

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(Don’t wince at my own French – This was after pouring through my fiancés book and whining for twenty minutes. I think I gave up at some point.

vallées :: Valleys

Il se réchauffe. Le cerf se sera endormi dès ... Ainsi, ils seront lents dans la vallée pour vous de chasse! :: It is getting warmer. The deer will be getting sleepy soon... So, they will be slow in the valley for you to hunt!

” The accent was more nasal, and didn’t flow the same way.” :: The Quebecois accent is being born! Quebecois French is notorious for not sounding like French-France at ALL. It has been described as a nasal, butchered form of French. Despite both Quebecois and French speaking the same language, French people often complain that they can’t understand anything that a Quebecois individual is saying. XD

[France]

“We’re going closer to the…”

Francis smiled to himself, practically seeing the wheels in the small child’s head turning as he strained to remember the French he had been taught. He looked to the boy encouragingly. There was always excitement to be had at his pupil using the language he had been so keen to teach him.

“..the vallées ? Oui, vallées… The deer are resting there!”

A feeling of pride swelled up in his chest as Matthew remembered the correct words. Had he been close enough he might have ruffled the boy’s hair out of affection. It was a simple thing to say, but it went to show that young Matthew had in fact been paying attention to his French lessons and had been practicing enough to remember things. Despite Francis’ contentment with the spoken French, Matthew himself seemed less thrilled, almost disappointed as far as the blonde French nation could tell.

“Il se réchauffe. Le cerf se sera endormi dès ... Ainsi, ils seront lents dans la vallée pour vous de chasse!”

The words had a peculiar accent to them, when spoken by the small child, but all the same France beamed at the sentences the kid had put together. Francis was certain that Matthew would lose the stuffiness with age. He really was a magnificent teacher. He must be in order for little Matthew to learn so fast. If only he could teach the whole world the beautiful, alluring French language. If only everyone else on the planet would listen and learn as well as the small child in front of him. No doubt the world would be a more sophisticated and beautiful place. They could get rid of such unappealing languages as “English” altogether, not to mention all of these odd tribal languages.

He pulled his thoughts away from such fantastical ideas and instead focused on what his “guide” had told him about les cerfs. They would be slower and in a valley. Perfect conditions for pulling off a good shot at one of them. Truth be told, France was not an amazing shot with his arquebus, so any advantages he had could only be helpful. It wasn’t that he was a terrible shot, so much as he was still getting the hang of using the weapon and was a bit unpracticed. Plus, he liked to spend more of his spare time doing things far more pleasurable than hunting and firing weapons.

“Is… That okay to you, Papa?”

“Oui, mon petite.” the Frenchman confirmed. “I’m sure you well get better with the pronunciation as time goes on, Matthew. Just think, some day your French will sound as fluid and beautiful as mine.” Not at all finding this a vain statement to make, Francis shifted the arquebus strapped to his shoulder and focused the surrounding woods again.

He was certain that with his guidance, the young colony would grow up to be an elegant and well adjusted Francophone. Maybe not ever to the level he personally was, after all nobody could sound better speaking French than France himself, right? He assured himself that no, nobody could reach his level with his own language, but maybe Matthew would come close. The boy would grow into a strong French colony and spend lots of time learning all about important things like religion, culture and literature from France.

Watching Matthew and his bear in front of him, France took note of how the child seemed to know just what to do in the woods. He would pause at the slightest sound, and then continue on as quiet as a mouse, trying to avoid breaking twigs in the process. It would perhaps not be such a curious thing for a grown man to do, but for a child who appeared so young it was very strange and comical sight to see.

Canada had been correct about the valley not being far off. As they neared what Francis took to be the best area to find deer, he started to take greater care himself to avoid stepping on twigs. Carefully, he pulled the musket-like weapon from around his shoulder, in preparation should he find himself with an opportune shot. A slight noise to his right drew his attention, and he turned his sights immediately away from Matthew, just in time to watch a small squirrel scramble up the trunk of a nearby tree. The small grey animal paused to look down at them from a high branch, before quickly climbing out of sight. “He’s lucky we’re not after small animals.” France whispered to the boy quietly, hoping that they were still far enough away to avoid spooking any deer.
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((Sorry for the lateness for this one. I had to use the family computer since my laptop died. ))