I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the story and hope that it continues to get good.

Special thanks to Summer Leigh wind for favorting, reviewing, and Beta-ing.

. . .

'Why should I even try going back to West, if he didn't want me there that badly?' Suppressed troubles built up in Prussia with every limping step. A zephyr from the west kicked dust up with it, sprinkling another layer of grime onto his already sand-coated skin.

He lifted his left forearm up and tried to defend his clamped-shut eyes from the irritation but he ended up being just as blind as he would have been if he hadn't lifted his arm. The uncomfortable feeling of a being a dried out like sponge only added to his bitterness. 'It's not like I need them or anything, I can survive perfectly well on my own with just my awesomeness and . . . and . . . that's reason enough, I will live and they will cry from how great I am and West can come crawling back to his big bruder and beg me to save his ass from total unawesomeness.' He thought, delight kindling in his heart.

His chapped, copper-coated lips turned up to form a Grinch like grin. 'Then Italy will be making me food and Austria will spontaneously combust and-.' Wonderful thoughts on the "future" surged through his mind like electricity, sparking to life a plethora of good-cheer. 'Yeah, I can get through this. Just need to find a way to get away from all this damn dust!'

His mouth parted slightly by accident, but in those few seconds, dirt flew into his mouth causing him to have a coughing-fit. Overwhelmed by the dusty wind, Prussia turned away from the direction of the blowing dirt; with a burst of newly found energy, he sprinted off back the way he came.

. . .

The olive skin man sighed, looking down at the ground before him. Earlier, he had dumped out the last of the rocks in his make shift-sack and tore a strip of fabric from the bag; that piece was now covering his mouth, acting as a somewhat effective barrier from the sand. For the most part, he kept his head down and only looked up occasionally. Unfortunately, the wind had made the tracks more and more unrecognizable. 'If I don't turn back, I'm might not find my way back again.'

He glanced up quickly to scan the landscape in front of him; he had planned to turn back and forget all about the soon to be dead man's tracks in the sand, but instead he stood still his eyes staring at his feet once more. The smallest of manic smiles made its way onto his lips. He griped his knife tighter with each step he took, coming closer and closer...

Prussia ran with the wind, the dirt mingling with his tangled-locks as it flew behind him, he hadn't spent much time focusing on his hair but guessed that it too, looked similar in color to the ground.

He gritted his teeth in frustration; his lungs had started to burn from the exertion he was putting his body through, but he continued on at the same pace. His determination numbed the pain. He believed he could survive and get away if he only knew where he was.

His pace had begun to slow down, yet the wind only picked-up in speed and whipped at his exposed back. 'Where am I even going and how do I know that I'm going in the right direction? I could be running straight into miles and miles of dirt and wouldn't even know till I walked out of it days later and by then, West would of exploded from his guilt of leaving me out here and that would suck.'

Up to this point, Prussia had the intention of catching his breath and thinking over a short and simple list of options, but all reason left him at the sight of a shape what appeared to be a person in the distance. At that moment, it was like finding gold in a barren world...That was all the push he needed before he darted off, hopeful and curious. Like an unsuspecting lamb towards the slaughter house.

Both of their hearts thumped faster and faster as they became more defined in appearance, neither of them knew the other's reasoning for charging towards a complete stranger.

In Prussia's case, he was about to learn the true meaning of stranger danger.

The knife in the olive skinned man's hand was slowly slipped back to its original place in his waist-band and he casually jerked his shirt farther down to cover the majority of it from Prussia's unsuspecting eyes. The pounding in his heart became unbearable as it hit his rib-cage like a stone being thrown.

Unlike the man's heart Prussia's only slowed, his legs following soon too. The man could only copy the weakening pace. Tension from the planned murder mixed with the fear that Prussia had seen his knife made him feel like an impending storm was on the horizon.

Prussia, less than ten yards away from him, collapsed to the ground on his swollen knees. To the man, Prussia's stance reminded him of a penitent man as well as one close to death by the hands of another, both of were stances he was intimately familiar with.

He could have charged at him like so many times before and end it, but his instincts told him to walk, not run to this man. When covering the short distance between them, not once did his hand go back to the tempting blade resting heavily against him. Now, he stood looking over this man...or whatever it was.

He had expected to find that the trail would lead to someone with a bag of supplies or something that could hold significant value at least, however it seemed the only valuable thing this person could claim would be the life they were now clinging to like a child would to a doll.

"How are you still alive?" The almost unrecognizable Italian accent that came through in the man's hiss made everything in the world feel like it came to a stop for fallen man.

Prussia up until then had been staring down at the ground, his mind slipping in and out of reality. Something hadn't felt right, since he first saw this other man in the dirt. Lifting his head to gaze at the at the other, the man stumbled back at the sight of him. The olive-skinned man had never seen red eyes before, the closest being the occasional child he came across who had one or two pink-eyes due to illness. Things rapidly began to click in his mind then, his clothes, his eyes, and the fact that he was wandering alone out here made it clear that that this person was sick.

The man's hand started to creep back to his knife, mercy killing sounding better than selfishly killing someone for food they didn't have. It was the perfect alibi . . . well if anyone ever found out. "I'm too awesome to die," His hand froze on the hilt of his blade at the sound of Prussia's hoarse whisper.

"Awesome . . . what the heck are you talking about?" He demanded.

"I'm too awesome to die, that's what."

The man narrowed his eyes at Prussia. "What's awesome even mean!?" With a harsh yank, he pulled Prussia by his neck up, inspecting the other's blank features.

"Awesome means..." he paused, considering his choice of words. "Awesome. I am the definition of it."

Prussia only heard the man snarl before toppling back at the force of a push from the other. The only thought that came to him in subsequent events was; 'I'm going kick the absolute shit outta this kid.'

The man pulled the knife out in a swift motion, turning the blade towards Prussia's chest. 'Mercy killing, that's all it is. Maybe this man will thank me when he is among the angels and our heavenly father.'

"Aldo!?" A voice rang out in the distance, Prussia made a grab for the knife as it fell to the ground by his feet.

Prussia's red eyes peered out in the distance were a real glimmer of hope now made its way towards the both of them.