"How do we know which direction they went in?"

"We don't, but we can make an educated guess."

After a long night of braving the blizzard and taking periodic breaks when the snow completely masked their visibility, England had finally come to the conclusion that they were blindly following just one of the many possible trails that their lost trio could have wandered down. The helplessness of the situation was finally beginning to sink deep into his gut, and England was tempted to abandon their search and wait until they could have a real investigation team grace them with their skills.

"Look," Prussia began, slowing the car down to stress his point. "Chances are that they took cover in the dense trees. They wouldn't have left themselves exposed and easily visible. We'll just skirt around the shrubbery for a while—it's the only possible lead that we have. Now that the snow has settled down, we can take our time and make sure we don't miss anything."

There wasn't much else that they could do for now, so they would have to settle for a less than thorough inspection of the landscape. After giving a brief nod of approval, England let his gaze wander upon the relatively untouched snow. It was crisp and fluffy, making the wilderness deceivably less sinister and threatening.

What would it be like, he wondered, to live in a place that was so devoid of the marks of civilization—so primitive and backward? Apart from research facilities and a secluded town or two, the earth on this land stretched for miles with unsettled territory, primarily due to its inhabitable living conditions. The extreme winters were ablaze with the ferocity of nature, and it was strangely frightening how humans had allowed themselves to be driven away from such power.

They had access to technology that had shaken up the conventional lifestyle of society for centuries: computers, nuclear power, solar energy, satellites, GPS—and yet, here was the clear, profound proof that they still could not combat nature in something as fundamental as climate.

"Creepy, but beautiful, huh?" Prussia remarked, keeping the car at a cruising pace. "Could've been a great vacationing spot if not for the danger of frostbite and the like."

England hummed to himself, too mesmerized to say much else. "Yes, undoubtedly."

A comfortable silence fell upon them, presenting them with the opportunity to retreat to their own minds, each lost in opposite trains of thought. Therefore, it came as a bit of a shock when England suddenly clasped a hand onto Prussia's shoulder tightly.

"Stop the car."

"What's wrong?"

"Just stop the car!"

Not waiting to be told a third time lest he suffer his companion's wrath, Prussia slammed his foot on the brake, halting their calming ride. "Happy? Now can you tell me what's going on?"

Almost instantly hopping out of the vehicle despite possible whiplash, England sped to one of the nearby pine trees, tight-lipped and visibly distressed. His head hung over a spot on the ground, limp and immobile as he examined something thoroughly. "Tell me what you think happened here."

Carefully approaching the other nation to see what all of the trouble was about, Prussia felt the snow crunch under his boot-covered feet as he came to the site of the problem. Crossing his arms firmly and lowering his eyes to the ground, he finally understood why England had been so blatantly curt and anxious.

The sparkling white snow beneath the tree was marred with drops of blood.

Feeling his mouth grow dry, Prussia scratched at the nape of his neck and tried to come up with a plausible explanation. "For all we know, an animal could have done this."

Skeptical and fairly suspicious, England crouched down, reaching a gloved hand into the powdery ice for a closer investigation. He sifted through the snow for a moment, making tiny circular motions to reveal more blood underneath the top layer. Apparently, the blizzard had veiled most of the stains, but other traces were still in plain sight.

"It probably has nothing to do with—"

"Search the area," England insisted, interjecting any protests. "We have to be certain."

The man was eerily calm, mentally prepared for the worst-case scenario that he had already envisaged. He dug through a good portion of the snow and the underlying soil for any further clues, finally deciding to give it a rest once he was chilled to the bone.

Meanwhile, Prussia seemed to have better luck at scavenging, a gleaming grin on his face upon finding a plastic wrapper. "Take a look at this!"

Plodding through the snow, England took the crinkled artifact with great care, eyes narrowing to focus on each detail. "There's a sticker with something written on the side. It looks like it's the sterile covering of a gauze bandage."

Snatching another peek at the strange finding, Prussia nodded his head assuredly, white bangs momentarily obscuring his vision from the movement. "It can't be a coincidence. The blood didn't look to be too old, and I'm pretty sure an animal wouldn't be using first-aid equipment."

"Thank you for that insightful deduction," England jibed, stowing the wrapper in his pocket before motioning for them to return to the car. "At least we can now assume that they were here. We'd best cover some more ground before nightfall. Lord knows this region doesn't get many hours of daylight."

Immersed in a thought of his own, Prussia urgently grabbed the other's arm, pupils wide and frantic. "Wait! Is that—?" He reached into the snow and brushed away some of the slush, lifting something miniature and pearly-white in the palm of his hand.

"It's a tooth," England said matter-of-factly, unable to hold back the confusion in his tone. "What in the world was going on here? It's too large to have been Sealand's, so either Canada or America lost it."

Unable to come up with a hypothesis on the spot, Prussia turned the tooth over with his finger and sighed. "We'll have plenty of time to think it over when we get in the car. I suppose it explains some of the blood."

With precious sunlight already being scarce, the two reluctantly abandoned any desires to continue their search of the area, finding it best to press on. Carefully storing their artifacts for future reference, they returned to the truck and started the engine.

"Perhaps I should drive for a bit—to offer you some reprieve," England suggested lightly, hoping that taking on the task might soothe the vicious cycle of his dizzying thoughts. Fortunately, his partner-in-crime readily permitted him to do so, and he found himself behind the wheel, instantly feeling at least somewhat less uneasy, which was positive progress.

"Ready?" he asked half-heartedly.

Hunkering down in the passenger seat and making sure the heat was turned up as high as it could possibly go, Prussia gave a wink of consent. "As ready as I'll ever be. Can I say some last words this time?"

Smiling despite himself, England felt his eyebrow twitch upward. "Be my guest."

"All right, here goes nothing." Prussia folded his hands in his lap as though he were about to begin a prayer, clearing his throat and making a grand display of mental preparation. "West is going to kill me when he finds out where I am."

"That's all?"

"Ja, I wanted to seal my fate."

And it was all there—in the concern etched upon his face. England could see it very clearly now, though he had long suspected it before; Prussia had alluded to his brother for a reason, and they would have to address that reason.

Sending the car into a lazy saunter once more, England clenched the steering wheel in his hands firmly, if only to lessen his pent up frustrations. Then, he casted his passenger a curt glance. "Naturally, I suppose you must be worrying over his condition. Amidst all of the recent chaos, I never had the opportunity to be briefed in detail as to what happened to the others."

There was a terribly lengthy silence before England ventured to speak again. "Will he make a full recovery?"

"In theory," Prussia offered with a forced chuckle before reaching into his pocket to fiddle with the mysterious tooth again. "He should be fine. They tried some gene splicing on him, but I was told that there wouldn't be any permanent damage."

Making a sympathetic noise, England led the car toward the more mountainous region, surmising that America probably would have made his way for higher land eventually. "I'm relieved," he said after a moment, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at the road as they swerved past another row of pine trees. "Truly… I know that the English and the Germans haven't shared the most pleasant of histories with one another, but I would never want any harm to befall an innocent nation. It seems silly and childish to say this, but I do still find myself blindly wishing for peace in this world after all of these never-ending hostilities."

Kicking some of the snow off of his shoes and stroking the tooth in his hand, Prussia scoffed. "It's not childish. Going to war because something isn't going your way is childish. It takes strength to be willing to maintain peaceful relations. It isn't easy, but it's the only way to ensure that we don't end up destroying ourselves."

Narrowly avoiding a boulder, England sucked in a breath in agreement. "Do you think it's imminent? Nuclear warfare along with its mutually assured destruction?"

"I want to say 'no', but I'd be lying if I did… Looks like our journey stops here."

"What are you—?"

Focusing his full attention on the path before them, England brought the car to a stop, groaning as he greeted their next obstacle of the day. "How are we supposed to get up that?" he groused, gesturing wildly with his right hand at the giant hills in the distance.

"I can easily provide a solution," Prussia promised, jumping out of the vehicle and approaching the base of the first hill. "We take the old fashioned way—walking!"

Quick to strike down the idea, England followed the man to the steep slope. It was quite obvious that their monstrous truck/car/transformer-esque machinery would not be able to withstand such an abrupt, and potentially jagged incline. "But it's absolutely freezing! Have you lost your bloody mind?"

"If our three friends managed it, then so can we."

"Perhaps you're willing to risk hypothermia, but I assure you that I am not."

With a lamentable sigh, Prussia sat himself down in the snow, hands on his knees as he regarded the impervious man before him. "Listen, we can always come back to the car for supplies. The most important thing for us to do right now is to keep covering ground."

"I understand, but surely we can formulate a better idea?"

"As of now, this is the only option we have unless we want gravity to destroy our awesome car—and our faces, for that matter."

Nightfall insidiously lurking in the near future, England took in a gulp of the arctic air and surged toward the car, preparing a backpack full of emergency equipment. He left behind anything that wasn't an urgent necessity, reasoning that he would make Prussia undertake the long hike back if needed.

When everything was sorted, he turned to the albino, disgruntled. "Fine, we'll walk, but we'll start in the morning. I don't want to run into any woodland creatures when evening arrives."

Weighing their options and deciding that it would be pretty precarious to trek into such open territory right away, Prussia took up the compromise.

"Well then, it's time to recharge."


"Tastes great, huh? Am I awesome, or what?"

"You're delirious," Canada frowned, biting into the cooked fish that they had essentially broiled with the help of the fireplace. "All of that trouble just for one lousy fish?"

Feigning an appalled expression, Alfred rose to his feet carefully, minding his swelling arm as he almost tripped over his own two feet. "One lousy fish? This isn't just a fish, Matthew Williams! This is the most delicious fish that I've ever feasted on because it was obtained with hard-work and commitment," he lifted up a fishbone, twirling it between his fingers thoughtfully. "I put my blood, sweat, and tears into creating this hot meal for us, and you can't even show a little appreciation? Sealand loved it, right?"

Smacking his lips in an exaggerated manner, Sealand nodded his head happily, too busy playing with his leftovers to really hear what America was saying. "Yup!"

"See? I slave away for this family and never get any recognition!"

"We're a fairly unusual bunch for a family," Canada noted, cleaning up after their little dinner party. "Now that I think about it, are we actually biologically related?"

Waving the fishbone around threateningly, America placed a hand on his hip and bit back a grin. "I gave life to you, boy! How dare you—?"

"Can you be serious for once?" Canada murmured with a groan, feeling his cheeks blush in humiliation for walking right into that joke. "Thank God you're not my mother."

Casting his twin an antagonizing smile, America felt his response leave his mouth without giving the words a second thought. "Oh, really? Who is your mother, then?"

Immediately, he knew he had gone too far. Canada seemed to retreat inside his own mind, lost in a string of hazy memories searching for an answer that just wasn't going to make itself apparent. Flustered and dazed, his brother lifted his head after a moment, rubbing away an ache. "I-I don't know."

"I'm sorry," America swiftly amended, sympathy leaking from his veins. "I shouldn't have asked you that."

It seemed foreign to hear America apologize, as though he were above something so humbling. "It's all right."

Nibbling on his frown, America rested a hand on the northern nation's shoulder. "And to answer your previous question, I don't know. It's hard to tell if we're actually biologically related. It doesn't work the same way for us as it does with humans. It seems like we're related, but Sealand probably isn't."

"HEY!" Sealand exclaimed, finally paying attention to what was going on around him. "What do you mean?"

"Well," America began hesitantly, trying to keep from offending the boy, "England isn't technically related to me, so therefore he can't be related to Canada. You're related to England, but the old man just kind of landed in North America and claimed us for his own, effectively making us his brothers in a legal sense but not in a biological sense. Look, it's complicated, all right?"

Heaving a sigh, Canada slumped over his knees. "At this rate, I'll never get my memories back. They were too confusing to remember the first time around."

"Don't say that," America chided, flinging his fishbone at the other's chest and striking him in the rib. "You just need to give it some time while your brain mends itself from whatever they gave you in the hospital."

"Disgusting," Canada huffed, plucking the fishbone off of himself and setting it aside. "And I hope you're right. I've been having these weird migraines lately, and there's some guy in my flashbacks... We have a pretty elaborate house and whatnot…"

Face brightening with excitement, America kneeled down beside his twin. "You're already remembering! Tell me what the guy looked like."

Closing his eyes to focus more fully, Canada tried to recall his previous flashback, feeling a ball of anxiety form in his throat as his head protested the recollection. "Blond hair… Average height…"

"Green eyes?" America wondered pressingly.

Opening his eyes once more, Canada furrowed. "Yes, how'd you know?"

"That's England you're describing. He raised us together for a while until," America paused, grimacing somewhat in frustration. "—you know, what? Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's all history anyway… Can you remember anybody else? Maybe a taller guy with wavier hair and blue eyes?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," Canada admitted, ignoring the weird behavior for the meantime. "Who are you trying to refer to?"

Shaking his head, America couldn't help but worry that he was moving too fast for the other, possibly delaying his recovery by prodding him. "France… You were around him longer than England. He was your first guardian."

"Oh," was all the other could muster, astonished by the fact that he couldn't remember someone as fundamental as the person who had helped raise him. "I—I don't know what else to say… I've never felt this frustrated with myself. I mean, who am I? You tried to tell me, but I've realized that no one can tell you who you are—you have to discover it by yourself. And, I've been listening intently to all you've said and making feeble attempts at piecing things together, but none of it fits!"

Frown deepening, Alfred soothingly rubbed his brother's back, apprehensive and unused to having to console the other. "Mattie—"

Shrugging the hand away, Canada felt his vision grow blurry with tears. He couldn't recall ever crying before, hating himself for being so ignorant toward his own emotions and desires. Surely he had once aspired to do great things. He probably had ambitions, goals, and plans for the future before this entire fiasco. And now, he remained to be the empty shell of a man; the murderer of his own dreams. "D-Don't…"

"There's no need to be all upset. We're making it through the—are you crying?"

Pushing down a wracking sob, Canada's shoulders shook from the effort of stifling his embarrassment. His cheeks were flaming red and his nose was beginning to run. "I'm being such a child…"

"What did you say to hurt his feelings?" Sealand demanded, approaching the pair before soothingly taking Canada's hand in his own smaller one. "I can beat up America for you, Canada. Japan lent me this amazing new—"

Cutting the other off, America glared daggers at the youngest of their trio. "I didn't do anything! I would never hurt my own brother."

"That's what you want us to think! You're treasonous, aren't you?"

"Dude, I'm sure—"

"It's all right, Canada," Sealand went on, ignoring the elder. "I'll look after you. You're much kinder than America ever was to me."

"Not true!"

Having heard enough, Canada ran a hand across his face and fiddled with his glasses for a moment before straightening himself. His tongue seemed to be twisted when he made a motion to speak, but he found his voice after another moment of uncertainty. "Thank you, Sealand, but I can handle America just fine on my own."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes, I'm positive. Thank you for your concern, nonetheless," Canada said breathlessly, still feeling a horribly sulky sensation gnaw on his innards. "America has done plenty to help, and I promise he's not the cause of my sullenness."

He stared at the boy's hair for a long while, only directing his eyes elsewhere upon realizing how uncomfortable the gaze had probably been. Nevertheless, it was that hair that continued to wrench the dusty memories from his befuddled mind. His neurons screamed for solace from the intrusions, but Canada forced himself to think, to feel, to remember anything—no matter how vague. He took in the sights of his fellow nations around him, trying to place their faces to the past.

Watching this struggle unfold, America withdrew his hand from Canada's back and sat still in thought. "Wanna hear another story? It might make you feel better."

Stories… The power of narrative… Maybe it would do something to ease the memories out of their confinements. It was the only option which might be at least marginally effective. When Sealand had prepared to go to sleep on the couch, he took comfort in the personal moment that he was able to share with his twin.

He sighed softly, sniffling away the remains of his prior breakdown. "Sure. What story do you have in mind?"

"You'll have to stay tuned to find out," America replied cryptically, making himself comfortable as he cleared his throat and tried to channel his best narrator's tone. "Originally, you lived in Canada with France, that is, until the Seven Years' War, known better to us as the French and Indian War. After that, England won France's colonies in the New World and expanded his empire again. Naturally, I was jealous that there would be another colony moving in with us, but I also hoped I could use you as an accomplice for my many schemes."

Weakly chuckling and finding the strength to shake his head, Canada sighed again. "You took advantage of me, didn't you?"

"Not at first," America emphasized, drawing his injured arm closer to his chest with an almost imperceptible wince. "When you moved in, you had major issues with adjusting. Anytime England would even try to get within three feet of you, you'd start screaming your lungs out. All you would do is walk around with the silly polar bear France once gave you—it was the only thing that helped to soothe you. For weeks you were too terrified to play with me, and couldn't break out of your shell. Then again, you were always a pretty quiet and shy guy, but never to that extent."

"So, being the hero that I am, I had to do something to help you out, right? One day I came up with this genius idea; I would steal your bear and then you would be forced to ask me if I had seen it. Then, I would hide it somewhere in the house and pretend to go looking for it with you. After a while, I would go to the spot where I hid it and give it back, and you would finally see what I cool kid I really was!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Canada felt himself laugh involuntarily. "It was just like your usual plans, huh? Impeccably stupid."

"Hey, I thought it was masterful at the time. The only problem was that you never put down that bear, not even for a second, so there was no way for me to snatch it when you weren't looking. I tried to grab it when you had your head turned during dinnertime, but you caught me in the act and started shouting at me angrily in French."

Cocking his head to the side and looking perturbed, Canada could not find the words to describe how it felt to be uncovering oneself for the first time. It was like looking into a mirror after thirty years of blindness and insisting that the reflection staring back at you was just a ghost of someone else. "I speak French?"

"Fluent French. Anyway, that's not the point of the story. One thing led to another and England was scolding both of us, but me in particular. That man never really became upset with you, maybe a tad disappointed, but never enough to punish you or make you feel guilty. I think he had a soft spot for you because you were always the good kid—the little gem in his bag of misfits."

"Nonetheless, I didn't like it when England yelled at me because it made me feel belittled. So, I did what I think I had a right to do in such circumstances…"

Fearing the next sentences, Canada felt the need to make a prediction. "You didn't become violent, did you?"

"No, I never used my strength against you guys in a harmful way," America assured, looking insulted that his brother would even suggest such a thing. "Instead, I cracked a joke about England's eyebrows, which earned me a nice swatting."

Daring to smile, Canada swore he could see said eyebrows, trying to recall their size and shape. He couldn't picture them on the man's face, but he could still see a fair-skinned forehead framed by the filament-esque hairs. "Deservedly so, I would say."

"Yeah, but this is where it gets good. You actually laughed at my insult. Neither England nor myself ever saw you laugh since you'd arrived, and it was a 'eureka' moment. After that day, you started warming up to me, and we became inseparable. As kids, we were joined at the hip with glue, and we had some of the best days of our lives together. Who knew all it took was making England angry to bring us together? If I had known that from the beginning, I would've insulted him much sooner," Alfred harrumphed, hissing as the tender skin of his arm brushed against his knee.

Giving it some thought, Canada passed America a bucket of slushy snow, coaxing him into placing some against his arm again. "Well, I'm glad that we finally started getting along, even though you're still getting me into crazy messes. Was England a good caretaker to us?"

"Pretty good," America remarked easily. "Things went downhill when we grew older, but it was to be expected. I outgrew his rules and seclusion. You still have strong relations with him today, considering your part of the Commonwealth. Overall, you guys had a peaceful and cooperative history together. I was the problem-child of the group."

"I'm sure he still cared for you. Don't you guys have a strong alliance these days too? If there's anything I remember from my blurred knowledge of history, it's that you guys teamed up together after setting aside the most blatant hostilities. Then again, I don't know how actual personifications experienced that. All I know is most likely from a high school textbook." Canada packed more snowy slush on the increasingly red limb, trying not to dwell on his brother's pained expression.

America inhaled deeply, shuddering at the twinge of protest at the site of his injury. "Yeah, we still argue, but both of us know that they're mostly empty words. I think—we understand each other, as much as that bastard won't admit it. Recently though, I'm not so sure I see eye-to-eye with his reasoning anymore. He joined the IBPN and is on their head committee, and I want to be able to trust him, but I'm encountering some difficulty. I must've not lost hope in him though because I dragged Sealand along with us in a heartbeat, and I would do it again too. I know he's not my nation to look after, but… I still feel an obligation to make sure he ends up safe."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate it," Canada offered consolingly, glowering upon realizing America's deduction that his arm would mend askew was correct. He could already see the bone protruding in a twisted manner.

"I can't keep myself from speculating whether or not he's all right… Whether or not everyone is all right. And damn, I feel guilty for leaving them behind."

He wasn't going to tell America a lie to placate him, so instead he settled on, "don't dwell on it. There was nothing you could've done. Right now, we should focus on getting some sleep."

"It's a morbid game, Mattie. Politics… When you get your memories back, just remember not to let it convolute your mind. Keep your human side with you at all times—the innocence and instinctive fear of putting others through sorrow. If you don't…" America sighed, sitting up with another flinch of pain.

"It'll tear you apart like the rest of us, and you'll wish you didn't remember, after all."