Out of the Snow

Chapter 1

A/N: This is just a fun little fic about Canada and Russia. Sometimes they might seem a little OOC, just as a fair warning. It is set in a slight AU where the countries' homes are not separated by giant bodies of water (hence how Canada gets to Russia in the first place). Anyway, I don't own hetalia and I hope you enjoy!

*Canada's POV*

She barely remembered why she was out there, in the biting cold wind and snow, that was thrashing around in random directions. Her footprints had been long erased by the wicked snowfall, and now she stood still, shivering. She was unsure of where she was, and to make matters worse, the sun was leaving her horizon for someone else's. It wouldn't be long before the temperature lowered even more and before the wind became harsher. She remembered thinking that it hadn't been that cold when she left home, so she hadn't donned her winter coat and hat, instead went with a long sleeve red sweater, jeans, and thin boots. The weather forecast, she recalled, had said nothing about this awful snowstorm. Her brother had told her that she should wait until the next morning to check the ice on the lakes, but she had been so excited by the idea of ice fishing that she hadn't listened to his advice. Of course, now she regretted this decision.

There were only a few trees scattered around her, and even they seemed foreign and strange. So many hours were gone, like her footsteps, sacrificed to the harsh snow. The stars wouldn't be of any help tonight, because of the clouds, just as the sun had served only as a source of light and not a compass in the storm. There aren't any caves or mountains that I've seen, so there's no shelter from that, but I wonder.... Her thoughts trailed off as she studied one of the trees, a sort of pine she determined, which was tall and thick, with branches that slumped close to the ground. She quickly stumbled over to it, and climbed under the tree's arms. Inside the wind wasn't blowing as hard, causing the air to seem a little warmer. She pressed her back to the trunk and pulled her knees close.

Her body had ceased its shivering a while ago, and instead had begun to draw warmth from her extremities, namely her toes and fingers. She started to rub her hands together, though they felt sluggish to do this, in attempt to warm them. I wonder if my brother is worried for me yet. I suppose not, She relented to herself, He probably assumed I went ice fishing or something.

Her brother had always assumed that, because she lived in such a northern part of the land, that she liked the cold. In reality, she just dealt with it, although admittedly she did love ice skating and a cup of hot apple-maple cider at the end of the day. Her stomach growled as she thought about her maple and brown sugar cookies sitting on her kitchen's counter-top.

She figured that her brother would come looking for her soon, but doubted what state he'd find her in. Probably frozen in this position, or sleeping. The humiliation to her other relatives he could cause from this were daunting. Even if he does find me, he'll never let it go that I got lost in my own land.

She noticed that her eyelids had become heavy and she struggled to stay awake. As she took her next breath of icy air, a cough rose in her throat, followed by a series of them. Once she ceased her coughing, which left her more exhausted, she relented and laid down in the snow. Soon her clothes were soaked with the cold wetness of winter, but she didn't care. Maybe, she thought, a little sleep wouldn't be such a bad idea. Just a little rest..

As she started to drift into the darkness of sleep, she heard the crunch of snow. Then came the whooshing of something moving fast in the wind, and her tree fell. Her eyes slid closed and the last thing she saw were a pair of large, black boots, covered in snow.

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*Russia's POV*

He closed the door harshly behind himself, and walked out into the snow covered yard. His sisters had been bickering, and he had become sick of it. Fighting man to man, with weapons, was how to solve problems, not silly negotiations. When he had brought this up to them, they had glared at him for the first time in, well he couldn't remember how long. Apparently, instead of helping the situation like he had thought, he'd made it worse. As each sister made her case to him, telling him how she could fight like he wanted, not the other.

So he'd left the room, no sense in standing in the middle of chaos, when he could get some work done. If he finished his work, perhaps he'd teach Latvia and the others more about his great past, and how he'd rule everything someday.

He'd also had enough of Belarus' incessant and annoying stalking, as well as the scary words she threw at him. 'Marry me' and 'big brother' should never be associated in the same sentence. The sky was beginning to cloud over, and the unmistakable taste of a snowstorm hung in the air. Good, he thought, it's going to be a bad storm, that ought to shut them up. Then I can sit in peace and think about the places I will visit, and love so much that they would unquestionably become one with me.

He supposed he did 'love', as people used the term, his sisters, to some extent. Surely, when one cares if someone freezes or starves to death, that must be love. He shook his head, the concept of 'love' and 'friend' mixing in his head. It was hard to distinguish the differences, so he decided that they would be the same now, because it made it simpler.

He strode past the shed in his backyard, and paused at the locked door at the end of its length. Ukraine, he remembered, had lamented about not having a Christmas tree like America's extravagantly decorated one. She'd said she wished she had a tree that she could decorate with various things she'd made for such an occasion (though he really couldn't think of why she'd want to be like that guy. He wasn't as great as Russia was). He didn't believe in any sort of 'God', aside from vodka (the only thing that had shown him anything close to 'godliness'), but he did like to please his sisters.

So he unlocked the door to the shed, and glanced around at the various tools. They were mostly pipes of different sizes, and at the very back were some other tools. He spotted his large sized ax and picked it up. After determining that the blade was still sharp, since he hadn't used it in a while, he turned and left the shed. He locked the door behind him and strolled past the back gate and into the barren wilderness behind his house. It felt good to be outside again, in the snow and crisp air, and to have a job to do.

It didn't take him long before he reached the small grove of pine trees and to pick the best one out of all of them. His sisters would be happy to get a big tree, so he selected the biggest and greenest of them. The snow crunched under his boots as he approached it and raised his ax. It whistled through the air, and sliced through the trunk. The tree groaned and gave way, a squirrel scampered out as the tree crashed into the ground. Now that the tree was cut, he realized that it wasn't as big as he'd thought, so he pulled it to the gate of his house, and fated it to be firewood later.

The storm was getting closer now, but he wasn't worried. No snow storm would scare him. He went back to first grove of trees, striding past them, and continued in the direction of a forest he knew was nearby. When he reached the edge of the forest, the wind had started to rush around, so he pulled the scarf over his mouth in preparation of the annoying snow that would soon be flying around. The forest, if it could be called that, was not dense, and the trees were scattered and far apart from each other. He walked between them, looking for the tree that would make his sisters the happiest.

Soon the storm had broke and, as he had thought, it turned out to be a nasty one. He barely noticed the sun as it began to set, just as he saw the perfect tree in the distance. Slowly, he made his way over to it, fighting the wind as he did so. Again, he positioned his feet and raised his ax. With a mighty force, he swung and it sliced through the wind and the trunk in one blow. As the tree fell, he look down and saw a girl in the snow. How curious. He thought to himself, Why is she out in the cold? Perhaps she lives out in the snow?

She was curled up, half covered in snow, and littered with pine needles. Her eyes were closed, lashes laying against her cheeks. He stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was dead. No, her lungs were still drawing air, however slowly. He brushed off the pine from her sweater, revealing a white leaf in the middle on the front. Where do I know you from? Oh, yes, it is Canada, America's sister. He reached down and brushed her pale cheeks. They were as cold as the snow itself.

I suppose she couldn't handle the storm, and showed it her fear of it by hiding under the tree. I will be taking her to my house, I think, yes. That will do nicely. So removing his coat and, kneeling down next to her, he wrapped her in it, and slung her over his shoulder. Then, he strapped the ax to his belt, and grabbed the tree with his free hand. He began to hum as he fought the storm, going back to his warm house awaiting his homecoming.