Author's Note- What to do when you find yourself stranded with a bunch of foreign people: Cry. You could make yourself useful, but just remember...crying is easier.

To make myself useful over the next several days, I found work tending to the gardens I discovered a little ways from the camp. The tomato and grape plants were closer to the river for nourishment than the regiment. I found this out the hard way when I was taking a walk and nearly squashed weeks of hard work, mistaking them for ordinary forest plants. The men who nurse the crops stopped me in time by pelting tomatoes at my face. I could not see for a few hours after that.

Some sunrises later, everything was fine (I finally removed that one seed from my eye), and I passed the time plucking weeds and pruning the plants by listening to the men chat to one another, picking up common words and phrases. "How are you?" "Did you sleep well?" "I need to relieve myself." "I want pasta for dinner tonight."

Yet my search in the shadows for maps was not as successful. They were nowhere in the medical tent, as concluded my fourth thorough search, and I doubted any of the men harbored them, since they would not be lingering in the woods and using leaves to wipe themselves! It is as if they do not have the maps.

That sounded smarter in my head than writing it in my journal, what I occupied myself with at the moment. The medical tent was a sanctuary away from the afternoon bustle of the camp, and I could peacefully write and think in the muffled silence. Not having maps is the same of not having shoes on one's feet, or having dog food yet not having any dogs...

A small weight rested on my back as I hunched over the notebook, using my other arm as a writing surface. I gasped and jumped away, snapping my journal closed. Feliciano had a hand raised in the air and asked something with a slight tilt of his head. I did not even hear him enter the tent.

I relaxed with a sigh, knowing that none of the campers can decipher my written words. I walked over to the cot and put the notebook into my backpack before falling onto the bed. Feliciano smiled and hopped over, settling uncomfortably close to me. He began blubbering, and I caught a few words, mostly articles of "the" and "of" and a few "I have" and "I went." My eyebrows mashed together as I found myself staring. Does he speak to fill the silence? I wondered, because we both now know that we cannot understand one another, even partway.

I watched the gestures Feliciano performed with the story he was telling. He made a jogging motion, his arms stiffly pumping up and down in mid air, and he huffed, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. His words were lightly twisted with giggles, and held a hand out, as if he were doting on something. I felt my jaw tremble from my fight to not let out frightening laugher. I turned away with a hand over my mouth, but I could only muffle my awkward chortling so much.

Feliciano gasped and grabbed my arm, exclaiming joyously and shaking us both side-to-side. He repeated my name amongst other words. I lightly swished my hand to feebly stop him and sighed shakily with the feeling of laughter still in my stomach. "Sorry, sorry. I did not mean to-" I tried, losing my words to another bout of snickers after he let out a few giggles. "All right, stop laughing. It is making me laugh, and that is probably why you are laughing..."

I never knew happiness was contagious. I cleared my throat, gazing upon the sunlight filtering into the cracks of the tent, promising another warm, sunny day. My eyes flickered to the side at the movement of Feliciano raising his hand. I slightly recoiled when his fingers brushed clumps of my hair that were not pressed to my head behind my ears.

I realized he was asking me something in a quiet tone. I could sense my face gawking at him stupidly. "Err...what?"

"How...you are?" He struggled, and even then, his voice managed to remain fleeting.

"O-oh, I am fine," replying easier. "Err, I did not know you spoke Spanish."

"Very little. Listen better."

"Thanks to your brother yelling at you in it all the time?" I guessed, my poor attempt at humor.

None the less, Feliciano unleashed a flurry of giggles, graciously nodding. "Yes! He is mad...not know...why I come with you."

I wondered that, too. "Why did you bring me here?" His smile faltered. "Uh, I am not mad. I am just curious."

He smiled again. "You help."

I grimaced. I only helped him because I scared him, even unintentionally! "You are welcome?" I said, if that was the proper thing to say...

"We have pasta today!"

"We are eating spaghetti again this evening?" I asked, and he vigorously nodded, so happy over the prospect of noodles. "Good, good, your pasta is nice."

He stared blankly despite his smile.

Shit, that was not nice. "No, your pasta is...the best pasta..."

When Feliciano laughed, most likely from my stupid grunting in attempts to communicate, I knew that was a bit better, and it was the truth. I wondered for a moment if the pasta had mind melting abilities, my train of thought tangling underneath itself as he wound his arms around mine, sighing, but it was not a sad sound.

Was I the only one around here that was raised to be cautious of strangers and respect personal space? "Err, Feliciano," I started, about to scoot away, but he picked up his head, eyes warm but questioning.

"Are you good?"

"Uh, yes, I am fine," I said, and he nuzzled back to his previous position, his face pressed against my shoulder, swinging his legs back and forth and lightly humming. I guess this was fine. There is nothing not fine with company, even if it was a bit too close company. For a few peaceful breaths, I listened to Feliciano's singing. I felt the day's warmth billow into the tent. I smelled the lingering scent of tomato sauce and wine in the air.

I picked up my head that was beginning to lean to my occupied side, as my responsibilities crept in to play. "Feliciano, do you have any maps?"

"El mapa?" He echoed.

I glanced around the tent for something to draw in the dirt. "Excuse me," I slipped from the bed, not missing his soft exclamation of confusion. Ducking out of the tent, I spotted the stick that we previous used, and took it back inside.

Feliciano was in front of the entrance, most likely about to follow where I went. He saw the branch and questioned me about it. I walked to the middle of the tent, and started with a rectangular shape in the dirt, filling it with blobs.

"Oh! La carta!" Feliciano gasped. He started to say something, but trailed off when he remembered I could not understand Italian. He struggled with the words, his hands bobbing up and down with the effort. "Maps...no maps."

Great. I gulped. "No maps? You never had them, or did you lose the maps?"

"Maps...hot...no, not hot. Hot light, no maps."

Now he was making me think of light bulbs, but that would not fit into the situation. "Can you draw it?"

"Yes!" Feliciano grabbed the branch, and eagerly scribbled below the rectangle. Wavy lines reached for the crude map I drew, and he drug the tip across the map twice, scratching a X over the drawing. Then he surrounded the entire thing with large, puffy swirls.

"There was a fire?" I gasped, the last drawing in that journal snapping in place. Was it the same fire? "How did that happen?" When Feliciano hesitated with a strained expression, digging the side of his head, I asked, "Can you draw how it passed?"

Feliciano shook his head, tapping the stick on the dirt.

"Is it too difficult to draw?" That would be hard to believe based on Feliciano's previous art.

Another hesitation, then Feliciano shook his head again. He propped the stick against the cot before turning away. He paused at the opening of the tent.

"Feliciano? Did...did something big come by?"

"Do not think...I go. Bye!" He stammered and slipped outside.

"Wait, Feli!" I reached for the door and peered into the camp. Feliciano streaked across the field and away into the trees. I shrunk back inside before any of the men could look my way. I turned and stared at the map with a giant X running through it.

"If the maps were destroyed in that attack, that would explain why there are no commanding officers, and why there are so few men left in the regiment." I whispered, looking away from the cruel sketch. "They died."

With no maps, they would be stuck to wander aimlessly until they found civilization again. Yet they did not do that; they decided to set up camp and stay in the forest. A bit odd of a decision, but it does sound better than dying of disease and starvation while possibly furthering their predicament.

"Since my troops are going to head South, we could help the lost regiment find their way back home, too." I gasped, but then grumbled at the silly idea. What would my brother say, if I came crashing into camp with all these Italians? Not only would they have to agree to the idea (which I have no way of conveying to them), I would have to find my regiment first.

"Oh, Gilbert, what would you do, if you were in my shoes?" I asked aloud, which I really should not have been doing.

"Not fit, that's for sure! You got big feet!" He would most likely say.

I chuckled at the thought, scratching the back of my head as I approached the exit once more. Flipping open the cover, I eyed the campers. Some hunched over the building fire, preparing for the next meal at daylight's end, while others lazily lounged about, daring to nap in the warm grass.

"Italian military," I mused, but frowned when I did not see Feliciano's auburn hair in the sea of duller heads. If the subject of the maps burning prompted him to flee, then it would only worsen matters by forcing more questions upon him. Yet he could have ran away in a fit from the resurfaced memories, and fall into the river...again.

I decided to go after him, for his own safety, and the fact that I felt a heavy weight pulling on my stomach at the possibility of him being upset with me from bringing up a sensitive topic. Several pairs of eyes trailed after me as I lumbered across the camp, trying not to meet any of the stares. My feet crunched loudly, echoing around the trees as I traveled further from the evening laze.

I inferred Feliciano would keep away from the water for a while, so I turned from the stream. The late sun beat my back during my search. I imagined how it affected Feliciano, who ran through the trees. Hopefully, he did not run into one.

I paused in the middle of a circle of trees with the ground gradually slopping upward. I glanced over my shoulder, surveying the landscape and memorizing familiar structures. It would be truly stupid of me to lose myself from two regiments!

The air whistled, and something small pinged off my head. I clamped a hand over the offended area while spinning around. Feliciano's brother, who I begrudgingly learned his name to be Lovino, stood at the top of the hill, tossing something in the air and catching it. I opened my mouth to call out for him, but he launched another of the mysterious object.

It directly hit my forehead and fell to the ground. An acorn. Lovino's cackles reverberated through the forest, greatly amused at what he accomplished.

"You look like a dumb deer on steroids!" He told me.

"Why are you so rude?" I asked.

Lovino shrugged. "Who wants a potato rolling around? Besides, you upset my brother. You're asking questions we don't like."

"About the maps?" I guessed. Lovino frowned. "Feliciano said that they were burnt."

"So what?"

"So what?" I echoed. "Without maps, you will not be able to return home? How will I get back to my regiment? I know I am not your favorite person, so if I could get this figured out as soon as possible, I can leave quicker. I just want to know what happened to prompt the regiment to stay-"

Lovino tossed another acorn. I stepped to the side, and it bounced into the leaves. "Yeah, I definitely don't like you. You need to mind your own business, jerk."

"Great, now that is settled, can you tell me if the maps were burned in that attack-"

Another acorn pinged off my shoulder. "You talk a lot of nonsense for a German. You may want to stop thinking too much. You'll fry that potato brain of yours."

I decided that I wasted enough time dawdling, so I marched up the hill. Lovino grew horrified and backed away as I neared. "What are you doing?!" I stopped at the top of the hill, surveying the land. "Hey, stupid, I asked you a question!" Lovino swooped down, grabbing another acorn.

I ducked to one side, and caught his thin wrist mid-throw. The acorn tumbled to the ground, and he gawked at me with wide eyes. "I asked you a lot of questions. Did you answer any of them? Why should I tell you anything if you will not do the same? It is as if you want to stay in the woods forever."

Lovino tried to twist out of my grip, prompting to cry out in pain. "Let go of me, you fucking bastard!"

"Stop throwing acorns at me! It was not funny in the first place, let alone the seventh time," I released him before he could manage to injure himself further. Lovino fell backwards from trying to yank away.

"Jerk!" He spat. "You hurt my shoulder!"

I gave him a confused look before charging down the hill.

"Wait! Wait, you stupid potato!"

My feet slowed down, though I did not consider it a good idea to listen to Lovino. Though that would be rather low of myself, so I turned and looked up at him rising to his feet. "If any more of you stupid blond boys hurt my brother, I'm going to kick your ass and stuff your cavity with acorns!"

He spun around and ran down the other end of the hill, out of sight. "That sounds promising," I dully noted. I turned to the trees to continue my search.

A.N.- Does anyone think Lovino sounds like a mafia mandude when he said Ludwig was asking too many questions he did not like? Because I think he sounded like a mafia mandude. :P