"Germany! Where are you?" Italy shouts loudly. Perhaps he doesn't hear him, but he keeps his hopes high. This island isn't that big, but it would be quite an adventure to travel across it. A large hill stands to the left of the island, topped with rock formations. The sea crashed against the shores, and the thick jungle lay across the center of the island.

The sun shone down relentlessly on his skin, cooled only by the gentle wind lifting and setting down his light brown hair. He was shoe less, wearing only shorts with no shirt on at all. He held a white flag in his left hand instinctively waving it at every disturbance that emerged. The island was peaceful however, and the fresh, mildly salty air made Italy nearly forget all his worries. He walked along the shore, staring into the distance in search of a human figure. When he awoke on the island that morning, he had no idea what t expect. Perhaps he was the only one there! If that were true, he was afraid that he wouldn't last long.

"Anyone there?" He called again. His only answer was his aimless echo. He walked in the right direction of the island, where the sun shone brighter but the plants were few. Rocks littered the sea bed and the island sand. Tropical trees hung low and outwards, presenting their fruit as if it were a gift just for Italy. Satisfied with the availability of a meal, he snatched a coconut from the kind plant, devouring it's contents and sipping happily on it's milk.

After his meal he marched on, step by step uncovering more uncharted territory. He loved the feeling of the sand between his toes while avoiding the rocks that could hurt him on the ground. Eventually, however, after much exploring, Italy found himself beginning to tire. Weary and covered in dampness, he took a couple of leaves from various plants and created a bed for himself. He lay his head on the soft leaves and sighed. After a brief siesta, he would get up and search for others who may have appeared on the island.

When he awoke, he felt his mouth, dry. Looking at the world around him through slotted eyes, he saw mysterious tracks by the wet sand. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be human tracks. Comparing them with his own feet left him astounded. They were huge! Deciding to ignore his other needs, he followed the footprints into the dense jungle. Pushing sticks and branches out of his way, he finally came to a clearing. A giant snake, at least twice his size. Fighting this terrible beast in a defensive position stood France, brandishing a sharp stick.

"Papa!" exclaimed Italy, when the snake turned to face him. That's when France plunged the sharp stick into the snake's head, killing it once and for all. Italy stood there in awe of France's bravery and strength. "Italy?" asked France ina questioning tone. Italy snapped himself out of his trance.

"Papa France! It's great to see you! I miss my pasta.. How did we get here?"