'I'd set sail nearly three years ago, enduring countless hardships – starving for days in the middle of the ocean after getting attacked by giant tiger-eels, trekking through the blistering Earth Kingdom deserts, searching ever Verdammt air temple I could find, getting stranded on several deserted islands – yet after all this time the Avatar has still eluded me. Lately I've been risking frostbite in the South Pole, the final continent in my search.

'However I, Prince Ludwig, will take my rightful place on the Fire Nation throne and regain my honor by capturing the Avatar!'

The words of his last journal entry – it was not a diary! – came drifting back to Germany as he trudged through snow and skidded over ice. Just his luck; he was trekking right through the beginnings of a blizzard. Snow swirled around him to the point where he couldn't see where he was going. He was seriously starting to regret leaving his crew behind at the shore so that he could search this land alone. Eventually he became so lost that he walked straight into a river – and was carried away by the current.

"What the - ?"

Germany flailed in the water as it pulled him along faster and faster, and was still blinded by the snow flurries that spiraled around him. Something hard hit him in the chest and the little breath he had was knocked right out of him. Recognizing that it was a large chunk of floating ice he'd slammed into, he grabbed onto it like a life preserver, heaving himself up on top. Sopping wet, he shook the water out of his hair, then shrugged off his satchel – it was not a purse! - so that it wouldn't weigh him down if he were to fall in again.

That was Ludwig, keeping his cool even in situations as dire as –

"Ack! A polar bear!"

Germany was so startled when he saw the non-hybrid creature milling along several yards away that he fell back into the water with a 'plop!' The river dragged him along with a vengeance. Shortly afterwards, a large rock loomed ahead, and the German was powerless to keep himself from slamming into it. All he could do was turn his head before –

Blam!

And the polar bear just shook its furry white head at the idiot human and walked – if polar bears can walk - away.

I'm… alive? His numb, gloved fingers twitched minutely in response. Yes, he was alive. But barely.

Germany pulled himself up onto his elbows to take stock of the situation:

He was lost. Looking around, he saw nothing but a landscape of ice and snow.

He'd lost his pack. Therefore no food, no tent, no blankets, no compass, no nothin'.

His head hurt. He'd slammed it pretty hard.

He was cold. He couldn't even feel his toes anymore.

He was alone. Nobody was looking for him.

Yes, he was alive. But somehow, he found a small part of himself wishing that he wasn't. Pulling off his gloves, he breathed a soft stream of fire to prevent them from freezing.

At least it had stopped snowing. That was something, right? RIGHT?

He was standing before a three-story-tall sphere of ice. And for some strange reason, he felt compelled to crack it open.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

So after pounding on the same spot with his fists as hard as he could for twenty minutes straight, a tiny crack appeared in the ice. Luckily for him, it was a hairline crack that spread and shattered the entire thing, which came falling down like an overturned bucket of water.

Germany shielded his eyes from the explosion, and when he did look he was shocked to see –

"A box of tomatoes?"

Bewilderment and disappointment – although he wasn't sure he should be disappointed, as he hadn't expected there to be a box of anything in the middle of nowhere – settled inside Germany like an anchor being suddenly released.

"Aaack! That's right! Nothing to see here, I'm just a box of tomatoes – wait! Did you hear that Romano? There's someone here to rescue us! We're saved!"

Warily, Germany rapped on the wooden box. "Allo? Is someone in there?" he asked uselessly.

"No! No-one's in here! This is just a tomato box– I mean yes! Help!"

What the…? Germany seemed to be thinking that a lot lately.

Cautiously he opened the box. As soon as he loosened the lid, a brown mop of hair sprang up. The man's eyes were closed, and his wide grin bordered on idiotic. A single curl escaped his head, and in his excitement, it shot straight up.

"Wh-Who are you?" Germany questioned, cocking his pistol. "State your name!"

"I-Italy Veneziano!" the man addressed himself shakily, hopping out of the box at lightning speed to grab onto Germany's leg. "Aaah! Please don't shoot! I'm too young to die!" he whined.

Not knowing what to make of the strange man, Germany lowered his weapon. He didn't put it away, however. Just look at the way he keeps his eyes closed all the time! He's hiding something, I know it! He's probably a spy, just like the guy who tried to arrest my dog...

Er, some stories are better left untold.

There were more important matters at hand. "Do you know of a way to get back north?" the German inquired.

"Nope," the Italian said, instantly brightening. Germany face-palmed. Of course not.

"But Romano can take us anywhere!" Italy finished. He then executed an airbending move, effectively crumbling the wall of ice behind him. I've never seen that style of bending before. I knew he was a spy! Hold on – who's Romano?

The ice fell away like dropping a curtain, to reveal –

"Aaach! Mein gott! It's a big fluffy monster!"

"No! Don't shoot!" Italy said, leaping in front of Germany's once-again raised pistol. "That's Romano! He's a magical flying sky bison that can take you anywhere in the world!" he finished proudly.

Is this… thing… your pet?" This was much scarier than the polar bear.

The big fluffy monster in question reared its head, experimentally moving its gigantic limbs as if they'd been rooted in place for a long time. Italy bounded over to it, stroking its fur affectionately. "No, silly!" the Italian chastised playfully. Roaring loudly, the bison gave Italy a look that could've smited him to the ground.

Stop touching me.

Italy didn't notice however, and kept touching him.

"Romano," the Italian continued, "is my brother."