It's a bit gory, this chapter... Oh, well, I'm sure you don't mind! :3

They walked in silence for what felt like hours.

The ground was strewn with rocks which caught their feet, sending them staggering, and from far, far above they could hear the steady drip, drip of water.

Norway felt the same as he had so many times over the past few days: exhausted, frightened and confused. He kept calling Iceland's name, praying that he would hear a voice in reply, but it was all in vain. The only sound was that of their own footsteps and of water dripping onto rock.

Several minutes after the echoes of Norway's last call had faded away, Denmark came to an abrupt halt. Norway, who had been walking behind, crashed into him.

'Oh, God.'

Norway looked up - and felt an iron fist close tightly around his heart.

There was a small body spread eagled on the hard ground. Blood was pooling on the floor beneath it, and more was smeared on nearby rocks.

There was no mistaking the brown jacket.

'Ice?' Norway cried, fighting the urge to throw up. 'Iceland?!'

He lurched forwards, hands outstretched, choking for breath. Dropping to his knees beside his brother, Norway pressed two shaking fingers against Iceland's white neck and searched for a pulse.

Nothing.

'No!' Norway screamed. 'You can't be dead! You can't be dead!'

Iceland didn't move. One of his arms was bent backwards, and Norway could see shards of bone glinting in the mess of blood and torn muscle.

Denmark took a step forwards, one hand reaching towards the trembling nation. 'Norway...'

Norway gagged and dragged himself away from Iceland's mutilated corpse, groping at the ground. He could see Finland's frightened face staring at him, wide-eyed, from behind Denmark.

'We've - we've got to go, Norge,' Denmark said tentatively.

Norway suddenly remembered his own words spoken to Finland after finding Sweden's body: 'He wouldn't have wanted you to stay here. Come on.'

Norway raised his head. He could feel hot tears streaming down his face.

'I know,' he said.

Lurching onto his hands and knees, he crawled slowly back to his brother's body and pressed his lips against Iceland's cold hand. He could taste the salty sweetness of blood lingering in his mouth as he drew back.

'Come on, Norge,' Denmark said. 'I won't let the rest of us die. We'll fight whatever sadistic bastard did this, and we'll kill them. We'll avenge Iceland and Sweden - just you wait and see.'

He extended a hand, and Norway took it.

'We ought to tie ourselves together,' Finland said in a small voice, 'so none of us get taken.'

'Good thinking,' said Denmark. 'Got any rope, anyone?'

'I was hoping you'd have some,' Finland said sheepishly.

'What about you, Norge?'

'Me neither,' Norway replied, wiping his face with his shirt.

Denmark looked crestfallen. 'Damn. I thought we were onto something.'

'We could use our belts,' Norway suggested.

'That might work!' Denmark said, pulling up his coat and unthreading his belt. 'Have you got one, Fin?'

Finland pulled out his own belt and held it up. 'The only problem now is our trousers falling down,' he said, smiling slightly.

The belts were too short to tie around their waists, so they were forced to knot them around their wrists. Finland, who was in the middle, had two tied around each arm.

Finally, after heaving their bags back onto their backs with difficulty, Denmark lit the lamp and they strode out into the darkness once more.

The discovery that Iceland was dead had lifted a weight from Norway's shoulders. He felt terrible even thinking it, but he didn't have to worry about Iceland any more; at any rate, wherever Iceland was had to be better than this crepuscular hellhole.

But still there was Denmark and Finland to worry about. He wasn't so concerned about Denmark - he was sure that Denmark would be able to fight the thing off with his axe long enough to be able to escape - but Finland was small and weak. He didn't know how long the Finn would last against a beast that could take down someone as strong as Sweden.

He had just looked up to check on Finland when he saw the eyes.

They were white, bulbous, like the eyes of a creature that has lived in darkness all its life. They were pupil-less, larger than a dinner plate, and coated in a thin, cloudy film. The only reason he saw them was that the light of the lamp had caught them in its flickering glow, making them stand out against the blackness.

He stopped, and Denmark and Finland were jerked back. When they looked back questioningly at him, he pointed in the direction of the eyes - but they had gone; melted into the shadows like a cat in the night.

Norway couldn't help wondering how long they had been watching.