Norway, Iceland, and Denmark have walked back to their camp. They've climbed the ladder, which was excessively hard for Norway due to his wounded and infected leg, and Denmark ended up having to carry them. They're sitting underneath an awning on the roof.
It's raining for the first time in months, but this rain is extremely dangerous. One drop of natural water is as bad as a zombie bite, after all. Plus, the rain is a shockingly green color.
The awning offers them a bit of protection, enough to keep themselves and their things dry.
Denmark has his arms wrapped around both Norway and Iceland, and Norway is hugging Iceland tightly. Iceland feels safe, and warm, but nothing is heating up that empty space inside his chest.
He feels as if his heart is divided into four main pieces. There's one for Norway, there's one for Denmark, there's one for Finland, and there's one for Sweden.
The ones for Finland and Sweden are empty now. They're broken and shattered, and nothing that Iceland can do will bring them back.
He knows that he's not truly broken yet, but it's only a matter of time.
If something happens to Norway or Denmark I'm going to die, Iceland thinks.
He cared about Finland and Sweden greatly, but even he can't deny that Norway and Denmark are the closest members of his family to him.
Iceland doesn't want to think about the future, so he brings his thoughts back to the present, back to where he's surrounded by a cocoon of love and warmth and sadness. Bittersweet.
He's starting to feel drowsy, and he rests his head up against Norway's chest like he used to do when he was a young nation. He sighs, and tries to block out the sorrow that he feels with thoughts about how there's still hope, that maybe Norway and Denmark and him can find someplace where it's safe and create graves for Finland and Sweden so that they can honor their memory.
Iceland closes his eyes. Right before he can fall asleep, Norway whispers, "Don't worry, Ice, you're going to survive this."
But what about you? Iceland thinks, and drifts off into the sweet oblivion of sleep.
Morning seems to come especially early, and Iceland blinks open his eyes blearily. Norway's still asleep, his head resting on Denmark's shoulder. He looks so peaceful, and his expressions have softened with sleep.
Denmark's awake. He offers Iceland a smile, though he can see the pain behind his eyes.
"We're going to get out of this godforsaken city," Denmark whispers. "Just you watch us."
Iceland nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure that he could believe the words anymore. He kept getting his hopes up that they would survive, that they would be able to be okay, and his hopes kept on getting stomped on. It hurt.
It had stopped raining, and the puddles had all dried up. The sun, which had only been up for around an hour or so, had done its work, helped by the fact that the atmosphere was getting thinner due to the disease.
"Nor," Denmark said softly. "It's time to wake up, Nor. We're going to make it out of here."
Norway opened his eyes, and nodded. "I wasn't really sleeping," he said, his voice tired. "I couldn't fall asleep."
Iceland can tell that he's about to add on how much his leg and heart are both paining him, but Norway changes his mind at the last second and stays quiet.
"Well, shall we go?" Norway asks.
The eat a quick breakfast, and stand up. They walk toward the edge of the roof, Norway's limp incredibly pronounced.
"Can I carry you?" Denmark asks, laying a concerned hand on Norway's shoulders. Normally, Norway would've shaken it off. But the end of the world causes some drastic changes, and Norway lets it rest there.
"No," Norway says. "I'm just fine."
He's obviously not just fine.
Denmark goes down the ladder first, followed by Norway, and Iceland. When Iceland's most of the way down, Norway slips and falls. Denmark catches him.
"Nor…" Denmark says hesitantly, like he expects Norway to push him away again.
It shocks both Iceland and Denmark when Norway sighs, and turns to bury his head against Denmark. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and he seems incredibly small.
"It hurts," Norway pants. "A lot."
The rest of their medical supplies were with Finland. And Finland was gone. Iceland hated not being able to do anything to help his older brother, who was on the verge of tears.
"I'm gonna have to carry ya then," Denmark says.
They start walking. All around them, Iceland can hear various sounds. He's not sure whether he likes the city dead silent or the way that it is now. The silence would be eerie, but the noise is frightening.
At one point, they hear voices down a street to their right. They speed-walk past that street, eyes glued on the road.
A small yip startles Iceland. The yipping comes closer and closer, and a tiny white dog bursts into view from around a corner. It's running toward them. Iceland would know that dog anywhere. Hanatamago.
The dog skids into Iceland, and he kneels to pick her up.
How the hell is Hanatamago still alive? Iceland wonders.
"We can't take him with us," Norway says from his position in Denmark's arms.
Iceland turns to look at him, and shakes his head. "No. I'm going to. For Finland and Sweden."
He doesn't set Hanatamago down, and Norway lets the matter rest as they continue walking forward.
For Finland. For Sweden. I'll keep you safe, Hanatamago. You're all that I have left to remind me of them.