Short: Russia

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  I trudged through the frigid hills of snow, following close behind the man guiding me. The storm had become dense, nearly to the point of impassability. He had to carry a lantern just for the ability to see what three feet in front of him was.

I wore an almost awkwardly heavy, hooded coat and a scarf wrapped round my mouth.

I nearly tripped, but caught myself before my face fell flat onto the icy white ground.

"Walk in my tracks," Russia told me through the fierce, screeching wind. "It will be easier."

I took his advice and followed in his footsteps, finding that the snow was already packed there and made little stepping stones to keep up with him.

Yesterday, Russia had invited me to his place, asking if I would like to see the mountains. Since I wasn't very busy, and I hadn't yet had a chance to spend time with him, I agreed.

"I'll be fine," I had told him. "We have some snow caps in my country, and I've explored them plenty of times."

We had been walking for almost two hours. We planned to have reached our destination a while ago, but the sudden storm had thrown our calculations off.

Suddenly, he stopped, turning to face me. "It's no use trying to make it there anymore."

"Should we turn back?" I asked, my brittle voice not carrying near as far as his.

Russia looked to his frozen surroundings. "I'm afraid we can't. We need to focus on finding shelter."

The next twenty minutes or so grew worse by every step. My jacket failed to hold out the cold any longer. I could see frost forming on the exposed strands of my hair. My pace was slowing, and I was falling behind.

Luckily, he spotted a safe haven—a cave-like formation between some rock slabs. It wasn't elaborate, but it was a sturdy shield to the weather.

He ducked as he made his way into the cave. I collapsed onto the ground beside him, catching my breath. I struggled to pull my scarf off, but my hands were so frozen that they had lost their feeling. Nevertheless, I felt a pair of warm hands pull it off my face. I looked up to see they were Russia's.

He avoided eye contact as he slipped off my frozen gloves to reveal my ice-cold, nearly blue hands.

"Thank you," I spoke quietly.

He smiled in return. "No problem. I'm going to start a fire." He pulled some kindling supplies out of his coat pockets. It was a wise decision to bring them.

In a matter of minutes, there was a warm fire burning in the center of the cave. We shed our coats and other things drenched in the melting snow. Luckily, our clothes underneath stayed dry.

For seemingly hours, all that was heard was the howling wind outside and the small crackle of the flames in there.

"I apologize for this," Russia finally broke the frigid silence. "I... meant for us to have a good time, but... I always mess things up."

"What?" I tried to meet his eyes. "The weather is not your doing..."

"I know, but brining you out here was. You could have frozen to death if we hadn't found this place. And though I don't think you would have died, being a country, I'm sure it would still be very painful." He sighed. "I just wanted one person to be able to make a good impression on."

"Russia...?"

"What I suppose I'm trying to say is—I wanted you to have a pleasant time with me so maybe you wouldn't be hesitant around me... like everyone else is."

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