There was a gentle breeze and the smell of earth and grass. The heavenly breath bent the emerald blades, tickling his nose teasingly, slowly pulling him from his sleep. Consciousness of what was around him arrived first, though he still didn't open his eyes. It felt like a lazy day in the garden having a siesta in the back, but it didn't smell quite right. The air wasn't familiar, too clean to be home. Maybe he was dreaming? It was nostalgic, reminding him of when he was a child before industrialization and factories were built. Now curiosity tugged on him, urging him fully awake.

Groaning reluctantly, Italy roused himself, sitting up in the soft grass and rubbing his eyes. He must have been dreaming, of course. He and America had been inside that old library after the World Conference, but as he patted the ground, expecting a wooden floor, only to have a soft blanket of turf under his palm. Suddenly panicked, Italy looked around wildly, "WH-where am I? America? AMERICAAAAA! Where are yoooouuuu! D-don't just leave me here alone!" The frightened nation shouted, scrambling to his feet and finding himself in large meadow surrounded by trees in an unfamiliar land.

The bushes nearby rustled, causing the brunette to gasp, unsure of what could be lurking towards him. "A-America? Is that you?" He inched closer to the bushes surrounding the glade, praying it was the blonde superpower who could keep him safe in this unknown place. The rustling grew louder as he approached, "America?"

Suddenly, a large wolf-like beast leapt out of the shrubbery, its eyes dimly glowing a dull yellow, fangs bared viciously as saliva drooled down its slightly parted jaws and thick gray coat. Italy fell back in terror, "Whaaaa! America! Germany!" he cried, praying someone would save him, but there was no one around. Aggravated by the brunette's screams, the monster lunged forward.

Italy couldn't fight! He never had to in such a long time! He had once had Germany and Japan to protect him, but the recent years were quiet ones. Pulling out his white flag, he waved the sign of his surrender with vigour, "I'm sorry! Please, don't hurt me! I have relatives who were raised by wolves*!" The creature jumped at him, pinning the country to the ground and knocking aside the flag without an effort, its giant paw swiping at its defenceless prey. The thick claws cut through his jacket, just barely missing his skin from all his flailing and pushing.

"You need to stop sitting there and react!" Germany's voice shouted in his head.

Oh how many times the stern blonde had scolded him, but he never had to use the advice! Now there was no Germany to come rescue him, not even some well-meaning stranger. He had to fight back . . . but he had never been really good at that. Bringing his knees to his chest, pushing back against the wolf, he used his leverage to kick the wolf off him. The beast yelped, growling but no longer jumping at the young man, wary of what his next move would be. Panting, Italy grabbed his white flag, holding the stick like a sword in case the creature decided to try again, watching the gray wolf stalk around him, moving with it. His muscles trembled in fear, knees buckling, barely holding him up. He honestly had no clue how he even kicked the monster away; he wasn't strong like America or Germany, but maybe he wasn't entirely useless either?

The big dog snarled, pulling his thoughts back to the present, as he whimpered softly, the flag shaking in his grasp. Becoming bored with the waiting game, the monster lunged once more, jaws open for a bite. With a shout of fear, Italy side-stepped the beast, the sleeve of his shirt getting torn on a large tooth and he winced in pain as his hand was cut on the wicked fang. The dog landed off to his side, rearing for another attack. Taking his chance, Italy swung the stick, hitting it square in the muzzle. Yipping in surprise more than pain, the wolf found this meal too much trouble than anything the skinny body could give in return. Jumping away, tail held high threateningly, the monster gave one last growl before retreating into the dark trees.

Watching the dog disappear in the shadows, Italy held his ground a few moments longer before collapsing on his knees, panting from exhaustion, "Wha . . . what the hell was that!" he shouted into the sky, "That wasn't normal! This place isn't normal! Where am I! America!? I want to go home!"

Sniffling, he looked over his clothes, the blue jacket torn in various places and his arm bled a little where he had been cut. It was more a miracle he survived than anything else. Clutching onto his white flag, Italy shakily got to his feet. "I can't stay here," he said aloud, wanting to hear something other than the unnatural stillness of the woods and the ghostly whisper of the wind, "What if another one of those wolves show up, and what if he brings friends? I-I need to get out of here."

The trees to the south were split apart in a sort of pathway, and if there was a path that meant people had to come through here at some point or another, which meant there should be a town, or something, nearby! The Italian smiled at his logic as he shakily made his way down the path, clutching his only friend tightly to his chest as he did so. "I need to get home, but most of all I hope I don't run into any more of those scary creatures in this place."

The footpath began widening out into another meadow, wider than the one he had landed in. Ahead of him was a figure of a young man, standing near some high grass, looking around. There was something not right about him, the way the scenery showed through the large cape draped over the man's shoulders, and the overall transparency of his appearance. Italy froze, beginning to quiver, "Gh-gh-GHOST!" The apparition turned to him at the sound of his voice, even as the southern nation turned to flee back where he had come from, wolves be damned.

"W-wait! Don't go!" the young man called out to him, making Italy fall to his knees and hold up his white flag.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the brunette cried, tears in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at the spirit, waving his surrender for it to see, "I didn't mean to disturb you, please don't curse me!"

The ghost kept its distance though lowered its voice to calm the frantic country, "H-hey, just listen to me, I won't do anything to you!"

Looking up timidly, Veneziano dropped his white flag looking over the young man, "Really?"

"Promise," the ghost smiled, waiting for the nation to get to his feet and meander over warily. "It seems like you can see me. I'm Feliciano, you are?"

"I'm Italy . . . a silly boy who loves pasta and pizza." 'What should I do,isn't there usually a prerequisite for talking to ghosts?'

Feliciano grinned broadly, "Really! I love pasta too! I think we'll get along great." Feliciano looked over the stranger's clothes. 'Italy' was a very strange name, but the way he was dressed was even more abnormal. Maybe because it was from a different continent, but gazing into his face it was like peering in a mirror. "We kinda look alike, it's like you aren't even another person."

'I don't think he'll do anything . . . and he doesn't seem to be a bad guy.' Italy smiled, "You're right! Maybe you're a doppelganger? Oh . . . but, uhm, why are you see-through."

"To tell the truth, I just died," Feliciano sighed, rubbing the back of his head and looking at the ground shamefully, as though bashful that he had expired.

Italy's eyes grew wide, so he WAS a ghost! "Wh-what happened to you!"

"Actually . . ."

Light leather boots raced through the meadow, his cape flying behind him as he fled; one arm crossed over his stomach as he winced in pain. He had lost his dagger back there, even his flag, and that creature wasn't too far behind, its glowing red eyes never blinking, its gaze burrowing into his back like a drill, never letting him out of its sights. He was already injured, and if he kept running in this direction, he'd only meet with a dead end anyway. His blue vest was torn from the beast's attacks, soaked in blood in various places and his right cheek was cut, but nothing lethal as far as he could tell.

Crying out in surprise, Feliciano's toe caught on a raised root, sending him sprawling on the soft grass he'd used to doze on before these creatures appeared. The sounds of the snarling beast sent him into a panic, trying to back away. Surprisingly, as he was backed against the fringe of the forest, a place he would never enter alone, especially hurt and unarmed, the creature didn't rush him or finish him off. The human-like face seemed to grin, mocking his helpless situation as a pretty young woman came up beside it.

"What are you going to do to me?" he asked feebly, unable to bring himself to sound strong, because he really wasn't, even he knew that. So as he held himself up, using a wide tree trunk, there was nothing he could do to stop this woman with the porcelain hair and icy, emotionless blue eyes.

"Something very simple," she spoke haughtily, looking down on him. Everything about her was detached from this situation, the way she placidly rested her hands over her stomach, looking down upon him. Dressed in a dark amethyst, shin-length dress and high white collar and wide bell sleeves, there was no denying her air of royalty about her, the calm aloofness with whatever she did.

Feliciano trembled, his legs weak and anxiety making him light-headed. The way she stood so close to the beast without fear, it was unnatural. "That monster . . . Who are you? Do you have something to do with all the creatures?"

"Why do you want to know that?" she looked down on him from over her cheeks, the sun creating a stark contrast to her pale skin, the dark shadows made by her lips, nose, and chin creating an ominous aura, "It is pointless to ask since you are going to die here." She looked to the monster with its demon red eyes and dagger-like claws, flipping her long hair back over her shoulder, "Kill him."

It happened in an instant, lashing out viciously and swiping across the brunette's chest and stomach. Blood erupted from the wound as he fell to the ground, unable to even scream in agony, the pain was unbelievable. He laid in the grass, watching the green blades become soaked in red, eyes wide as his life slipped away, and the girl's voice echoing in his mind.

"Now you can no longer attend the meeting in Saia, and now no one shall get in my way."

"I . . . knew it," Feliciano struggled to speak, blood bubbling up into his mouth and down his chin, making breathing harder, "So that's . . . what you wanted. Lud . . . I'm . . . sorry." His eyesight blurred and he closed his eyes, preferring to die in his own thoughts than with the final distorted look of his killer as she looked down upon him.

"Since you are going to die, I will tell you," she spoke softly, sounding distant in his ears as she walked closer to his still form, the grass muffling her steps towards him. "I am Natalya," she spoke softly, though nearer, like she had bent down towards him, a softer edge to her voice, "Can you still hear me?" The last words were all he had as his life finally drained away.

"And that's what happened," Feliciano sighed, sitting on the ground despite the grass being unaffected by any weight he may have had.

Italy looked around, sitting across from him with his legs folded over each other. The grass not far from them, under some trees, had certainly been defiled, but there was nothing there to show what had happened other than the faint indent of the trampled blades. "So . . . what happened to your body?"

"It appears they took it away, when I woke here, there was nothing left."

"Then why are you still here?" Italy asked curiously, hands resting on the white flag laid across his knees, "Though, I guess it's sort of obvious you're still attached to something in this world . . ."

Feliciano turned and pointed a little ways to his right, "I want you to look over there."

Italy blinked in surprise and slowly roused himself to his feet, moving over to the taller grass, something white and shining catching his attention. He picked up a pendant, a palm-sized stone on a thick gold chain, weighing a good five pounds in his hand. Around the gem were intricate designs, something obviously made with great care. Golden ferns and small, delicate flowers surrounded the white stone, but never once out-dazzling it in beauty. The craftsmanship was beyond that of machinery, meaning it could only have been made by hand, giving the jewelry even more value. The jewel itself was faceted, inside seemed to be like a starburst, some parts brighter, lighter, and overall extravagant. Glancing to the ghost, it seemed too valuable to be his. The look-alike was dressed in a light blue vest and cream-coloured travel cape draped over his shoulders with beige pants tucked into the knee-high boots. Comfy, rustic clothing that would be found in rural society while the necklace was befitting royalty.

"Is this yours?" Italy asked, holding it up, the sun catching on the facets, glittering in the light. The sheer beauty was surprising even to Veneziano, who had history with such riches, little rainbows dotted his face as each shift in the angles change the colour of the gem itself.

Feliciano nodded proudly, "That pendant is very important to me. Right before I lost consciousness, I realized I had dropped it and I became frantic. When I came to, I was like this, and the necklace had been overlooked in the tall grass. I suppose it was a good thing I did drop it, or that woman would have it now."

"So you can't rest because you're still attached to this?"

Feliciano looked away awkwardly, chewing his bottom lip, "Well . . . that's not the only thing I'm attached to." His voice was more like a whisper; Italy hardly caught it at all. "Anyway, I'm so glad you're here!" the brunette smiled broadly, "I was so worried someone who couldn't see me would come and take it away. You really took a load off my mind."

"I'm glad," Italy smiled, "it must be really important to you."

Nodding proudly, Feliciano reached out to the piece of jewellery fondly, though it fell through his open palm, "It's an heirloom, and a very important stock-in-trade."

"So what are you going to do from now on?" Italy asked, glancing briefly at the dead boy before his eyes returned to the necklace.

Feliciano looked away, worrying with the broach on his cape, eyes strongly connected to his feet in thought, "Actually, there are still a lot of things I have to do." His face became serious in strong concentration as he stood still beside the other. He had never had so much stress, and he was supposed to be dead! Looking to the other, the amber eyes widened as an idea formed. The newcomer held up the pendant, examining the craftsmanship. When he risked trying it on, Feliciano knew this was his only chance. "Italy! I have a favour to ask of you!"

"Veh?" the country jumped, flustered that he was wearing the ghost's important heirloom, hanging his head in shame and quickly moving to take it off, "Wh-what is that?"

"Oh no, don't worry about that, go ahead and wear it!"

"V-veh?" he froze, more than a little confused.

Feliciano took a deep breath, "Italy, can you be my double?"

"Your double?" the brunette exclaimed, fingers linking together worriedly as he looked to his shoes, unsure of himself, "Wh-what would I have to do?"

Feliciano bent down, coming up under the other to make eye contact, hands folded childishly behind his back. "You see, a friend of mine is going to meet with the Patriarch of the village of Saia," he straightened up, pulling Italy's gaze with him, talking more with his hands for emphasis, "I was supposed to be a mediator in that meeting, but . . . Well, now that I'm like this I would be of no use, and as far as I know none of them can even see me. I want you to take my place, pretend to be me and do everything I need to!"

"Th-that sounds too difficult!" Italy whimpered, seeing only too many places where he could mess up, "I can't!"

Feliciano hurriedly cut into the other's denial, "There's just a little ritual you have to do, but it is very simple, promise!"

"But your friend," Italy mumbled, "Your friend will see right through it."

"I doubt that. We look identical, and our personalities are pretty similar too. Besides, I'll come with you and give you advice, tell you everything you need to know," Feliciano clapped his hands, though the sound seemed fainter; like someone was clapping around a blanket, or cotton gloves.

Italy looked away, worrying his bottom lip, "I don't know . . ."

"Please!" Feliciano suddenly started begging, falling to his knees before the nation, "You're the only one I can ask! People who can see me aside, you're the only one who can do it!"

Italy quickly waved his hands, trying to calm the wailing ghost, "Alright, alright! I'll try. I don't know how far I can go, but I'll try for as long as I can."

"Thank you so much!" the brunette smiled, wiping tears from his eyes, "First things first, you have to go to a village east of here, that's where my friend is, it isn't too far, and if you happen into any creatures, just run screaming he may hear you and come to the rescue."

"Alright," Italy sighed, a ghost of a smile beginning on his lips by just how enthused the ghost seemed to be. That friend also sounded familiar . . . 'He sounds a little like Germany.'

"Let's go!"