Author's Note: AEULSB;HNAEIOJDV I'M GETTING, LIKE, THIRTEEN REVIEWS PER CHAPTER WITH THIS THING

*clears throat* Er, much appreciated. Please keep it up, heehee.

And in case you were wondering, the past two chapters were going on at the same time. Unlike some of my other fics, the point-of-view switches can overlap. If you get too confused as to whether or not some things are happening at the same time, ask (in a review, nerf) and I'll make it clearer. ^^ This chapter is the same evening as the other two.

Estonia

By the time the sun sets, Latvia and I are settled around a tiny, crackling fire. We found a ditch with water, but it wasn't exactly clean, so we've been trying to boil it. The fire's just too small, though, and now that the forest has gone dark I'm starting to worry the firelight is going to give our position away.

"I think this is as clean as we're going to get it," I start. My voice sounds a lot louder than I'd like, so I look around just in case someone heard me. As far as I can see—which isn't that far in the dark, even though the trees are widely spaced—we're still in the clear. It's hard to feel the least bit safe here, especially when Russia could be around any corner, but I think we're all right for now.

I carefully remove the bowl-shaped rock from the fire and set it down a few centimeters away, before I can burn my fingers. Latvia only takes a second to realize we're done with the fire and gets to putting it out immediately. It's nice of him to take a hint for once, although he tends to know what he's doing as long as he's not talking. Most of the time. If it's something that can get the three of us in trouble, he'll probably do it...

It's just the two of us now. I'm not sure where Lithuania went. I hope he's all right; that's about all I can say. We don't chat much anymore, and chatting isn't the best way to stay hidden, anyway. We're going to have to be silent and invisible if we don't want to get caught. And while Latvia tends to be quite the expert in giving his position away—all of the quivering he does isn't so silent when we're hiding in things that rattle or rustle—I'll be sticking with him. It's bad enough out here already, and it would be so much worse if we were alone. Honestly, we're probably not going to do that much protecting each other, but at least we can feel like our backs are being watched. I'm paranoid enough; I don't need to be out in the dark all alone. And that goes double for Latvia.

By the time the last few embers have been stifled by Latvia's dress shoes, the bowl still hasn't cooled down enough for me to hold it for an appreciable amount of time.

"Where are we going to sleep?" Latvia starts. I can just tell that he's looking over his shoulder fearfully.

"You think you'll be able to sleep?" It is pretty darn scary out here. Even if it is safer, I'm starting to wish we hadn't extinguished the fire. It's even worse on our nerves when we can't see anything.

"I don't know..." He looks at the ground, downcast.

"Well, we could stay..." I start before pausing. Every suitable shelter in this place that we don't have to put together ourselves is made of leaves that rustle and wood that clacks. Unless he really does fall asleep, we'll only be more likely to get caught if he holes up in any of those.

"...here, if you want," I finally finish. "The ground's not all that comfortable, but there's more cushioning here than on the branches and bushes."

"Yeah?" Enough of the half-moon's light hits his face for me to see him looking up at the swaying branches. As a stronger wind makes the sound of leaves louder than the cicadas, I can tell he's stumbled upon the same trail of thought I just had.

"You know," he starts in a mumble, "you don't really have to stay with me." He swallows, not looking at me for a few moments before he starts to realize the implications of what he just said. "B-but please do," he tacks on, looking back at me pleadingly. It's easier to see his eyes when they're starting to tear up.

"I'm not going to leave you," I sigh, tapping the bowl to see if it's cooled down. I could move it elsewhere now, but by now I'm sure we're just staying out in the open tonight. "It's better for both of us if we stick together. A lot of it is just psychological, but I think that's fairly important when any one part of this place will turn you into a complete paranoid." I sigh, pushing my glasses up on my nose.

"Okay," Latvia says, pulling his knees to his chest. He blinks at me. "But thank you anyway."

"Don't mention it." I fight the urge to clear my throat. We've been making enough noise.

I pick up the bowl and scoot to Latvia's side so whispers will be sufficient. "The water's cooled down. You want the first sip?" He nods, rubbing his fingers all around the bottom of the bowl before he can get a grip on it. I carefully let go, and he brings the stone to his mouth and takes a tentative sip. From the sound he makes, I can tell he's barely able to keep himself from spitting it back out. He swallows with a groan. "It tastes horrible." He freezes. "Are you... A-are you sure it's okay t-to drink?"

Not really. We don't have any sort of filter other than cloth, and we didn't quite heat it long enough to get all of the germs and things out.

"I'm sure," I sigh. It won't do him any good to have something else to worry about. We have to stay hydrated for sure, and I know we've gotten the worst of the junk out of there. We might still get sick, but we run that risk no matter how much we clean things. If we play it absolutely safe, we'll be dead in a week.

And apparently we might not come back afterwards. Enjoy our immortality while it lasts, huh? I certainly don't like the sound of that. While I guess I've never expected to live forever—tons of nations are gone for good—this has to be different somehow. Otherwise, we wouldn't be warned, right? I can only assume our lifespans are supposed to be significantly shortened. Likely in a way that would affect our activity here on the island. According to the first three rules, some of us won't go home; after all, if the ones we have to kill go home before us, we can't very well kill them. So whoever doesn't go home should have his or her immortality run dry somehow.

But, is that it? The Rules seem fairly plain and prone to loopholes. If I kill whom I have to kill, I'll go home. Will I be alive if I get there? Will I be back to a normal nation? And in that case, will I be a normal nation until, say, I'm killed after my immortality runs out? Or is the loss of immortality more gradual? Am I slowly turning into a human?

And if that's the case, wouldn't more than just immortality be at stake? Nations are certainly more than humans who don't stay dead. What else separates us, besides the people of our countries behind us? I've never heard of a nation getting cancer, so it's obvious we have huge differences. But what have we not noticed?

I suppose we're more immune to vision loss. I've probably done enough tech-tinkering in the dark to wreck my eyes beyond repair, but I only miss out on some degree of distance vision without my glasses. If that's a benefit, then am I going to go blind? Through our long lifetimes, I'm sure we've all had enough exposure to sunlight to destroy the human eye. Would we all lose our vision with our immortality, then?

And what else is there? Sanity, maybe? While it's... a stretch to call some of us sane, we've all gone through more than enough to render a human unable to function. Will we lose our minds, too?

I really don't want to stick around and find out! Someone get me away from this place...!

"Estonia? Wh-what's wrong?"

I jump at the voice, nearly knocking the bowl out of Latvia's hands. "Ah! Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just..." I take a deep breath and grin at him weakly. "I'm just thinking too much. You know me."

"Okay..." He lowers his shoulders a little, though he hasn't stopped shaking. "Um, did you want some of this to drink, then?"

"Ah, yeah, I'm parched." I take it from him and down some. It's as nasty as I expected, but it's still nice to have something to drink, regardless of taste. Hopefully we can get a few more bowlfuls of this tomorrow. If we make it to tomorrow...

No, I'm just not going to think about this stuff anymore. For all I know, The Rules is just some prank, and we'll all be off the island once we can flag a plane down or something. I'm... almost completely sure that's not the case, but it won't do me any good to think that. I just need to focus on what I know. I know we're in some degree of wilderness with no food or water on us. I know Russia's going to be hunting down everyone. And I know I have to try my hardest not to freak out. It won't do me any good, and Latvia'll probably have a heart attack if I lose it.

Over the course of the next few minutes, we finish off our meager supply of water, and I wipe the bowl clean and stash it in my briefcase. The thing might be inconvenient to drag around, but any container's a good one, it has pencil and paper, and I could attempt to hit Russia over the head with it if he attacks us. I'd probably be too frozen in fear to do so, but there's still a chance.

I sigh, shuffling back to lean against a tree that isn't very comfortable. Latvia stays where he is, looking around constantly just in case. Though I know I'm way too tense to fall asleep, I make myself close my eyes for a second and relax. If it were just the cicadas making all of the noise, it would be quite peaceful like this. But critters I can't identify are gibbering who knows how far away, and the on-and-off rustling of the trees makes me paranoid that someone's approaching us.

"E-E-E-Estonia—!"

My eyelids fly open, but it's too late. We're bludgeoned before we can run, and dead before we can fight back.

I wake up groaning. My head's pounding, and my hair's matted with blood, but when I dare to touch my scalp, nothing's jutting out or still bleeding. I'm far from healthy, but I'm healed up, more or less.

I open my eyes to early evening sunlight. Have we been out almost a whole day? Or more? I don't think I'm quite hungry enough to have been lying here two days, but it's hard to tell. I've sort of gotten used to eating regularly over the more recent years. Famished is just famished now. No way to tell.

With some difficulty, I get myself into a seated position and look around. Blood stains the ground we had intended to sleep on. Latvia's still sprawled out face-down, though it looks like all of his injuries have healed up. He should be awake in a minute.

I stretch, noticing that my briefcase is still where I left it. Lot of good it did in that battle, huh? I don't think that could have been called a battle, though. More like a swift smackdown.

It had to have been Russia. He's hunting everyone down for amusement, and I'm not sure how many others brought in a blunt metal object. It was too dark for me to actually see him, but I know it was him. He especially likes picking on us, after all. I wonder if he already found Lithuania.

On that note, it's a bit odd he took us out so quickly. He's usually more inclined to torture. Hmph. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe Latvia and I are weaker...

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Haven't I already told myself I'm not going to say that? There are more important things to do. Like getting more water. And some food would be really nice, too, but that's not likely. I doubt I'll be whacking around any game with the briefcase. So, water it is.

I take a look at Latvia, and he's starting to stir. I guess I'll just wait on him. I wouldn't want to leave him all alone, even if I can leave a note. He'd probably panic too much to read it.

Watching him wake, I go ahead and stand, gripping my case. It's heavier with the bowl in it, though it isn't that light, anyway. It would be great if we could just scoop up water in here and boil parts of it in the bowl, but alas, the thing is far from waterproof. I'd hate to ruin what few things we have. It's a good thing my glasses are okay. They must have gotten knocked off in the first hit, to survive that assault. My dress jacket didn't get off so unscathed—the blood's starting to really smell, unfortunately—but I can try to wash it. At the shore, rather than our mucky ravine. I definitely wouldn't mind washing my hair, either. We'll have to make an excursion over there. Tomorrow, I guess, since we don't have much longer for today.

Latvia finally starts to push himself up, and I help him to his feet. I let him reorient himself before nodding in the direction of the ditch.

"You ready to go get some more water?" I ask. He waits for a second before starting to nod his head. The apparent headache makes him stop that and mumble a yes. "All right. Let's get going, before it's dark." I lead us off, though the trek, once again near sunset, gives me such a strong feeling of deja vu I start praying the same thing won't happen again.