Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. It belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz.
Part 3
"R'n", he advised the smaller one and quickly took off from where he was standing without realizing that he was outrunning the smaller blond male with his long strides. After running for only a short while he noticed that he had lost his new acquaintance, whatever his name was. He told himself that there was no point in searching for him; as far as he knew he'd been captured, even though that scenario was not very likely given the earlier chase.
Berwald stopped by a smaller rock and pressed himself against its hard surface, which was covered in stiffened, white lichen. He took a moment to catch his breath and organize his thoughts. Having the knowledge of Denmark being in the same woods as him he was sharp enough to draw his sword and stay focused by whatever means necessary. The more he thought of it the angrier he became. It was as if wherever he went Denmark would be there too, bothering and pestering him.
There was no use in lingering by that rock thinking about how annoying this whole situation was so Berwald decided to move on. He scanned every direction imaginable to make sure that no one was nearby before running off again.
Berwald missed running between stems as he got to a thicket but at least it was brighter. The light green trees occasionally cut his cheeks and gripped his clothes. Despite knowing that he had not walked through here when going into the forest he was still determined to see what was by the end of it. Perhaps he would encounter someone who knew the boy with the sword.
When he finally reached the end of the thicket he disappointedly had to find out that there was nothing of good use for him to find. All that was there was just a big sunflower field and beyond it was simply more leaf trees. The only good thing was that he was finally able to tell which way North was, and that it was the direction he just came from. In the West there was a huge rye field, as was it also in the East. The leaf forest seemed small and with all these fields someone had to live close by. With all these facts at hand and no other likeable alternative the man made his way out of the leaf foliage to look for someone who could help him.
A sudden flash of light hit his eyes and a second later there was a loud cling as two blades impacted with each other, Berwald's being defensive. He immediately forced the other blade aside with all his strength and charged at his enemy. His attacker was not Denmark himself, but definitively one of his henchmen who must have been watching him all the time, just waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
The dark-haired Dane was skilled and moved very naturally while still fighting the much larger Swede, whose offence was lacking at the moment. Berwald found himself defending all the time. Face, legs, belly and chest. The brunette lunged forward with a roar, clearly aiming for Berwald's still intact stomach. He feinted aside and managed to cut deeply far up the enemy's arm which with all confidence would leave an ugly scar. They both stopped. Berwald still had his back pointing at his opponent, but he kept his head aside in order to see him. He was also standing with his back to him, tense with mistrust, not even bothering to keep track of his foe. His head was drooping, his gaze at his feet as he breathed heavily; Berwald noticed on his back going up and down violently. While Berwald kept his sword ready the Dane was holding it down. It was as if that one blow had been all it took to defeat him.
Out of nowhere an arrow shot through the air and hit Berwald's left shoulder. It mercilessly peeled off a piece of his skin as well as a part of the robe. With no time to sense the realness of the pain it brought him, Berwald dived back into the thicket and ran as fast as he could, again ignoring the branches that grasped his clothes and tore his skin.
As he got back to the forest he could hear footsteps behind him as arrows started howling through the air right beside him at regular intervals. One man commanded another, who would command someone else. Apparently there were three of them, the archer included. The pain in his shoulder was finally starting to get to him, making its presence acknowledged for every minute that passed. Excruciatingly it shot from his shoulder to his neck and through his collarbone. He wished now that the easterner would be there to apply help. Even if he wasn't that big and looked rather innocent Berwald felt confident in believing that another spirit lay underneath his somewhat childish face, with the soul-staring eyes of a young one and small physical structure. The same moment he decided that he should try to defend himself instead of running away an arrow hit him precisely in the hollow of his knee and for the first time in a long time he had scream at the sudden tormenting and burning feeling in one of the essential parts that he needed to run away and fight properly. He fell down to the ground but quickly tried to get back up. Tripping again – when not even halfway up – he instead just rolled around to his back and kept his sword at the ready. The Danes had stopped but were all looking at him with serious faces that shone of victory. On the left stood the archer, a bit farther away there was another one, holding a sword and by the farthest right was the man Berwald had been fighting by the sunflower field, who seemed to be especially thrilled about the nation's defeat.
Right after quickly pulling the arrow out - using all his will to smother his screams - a voice that was more than angering to Berwald dauntingly bellowed: "Oi, Sweden!"
Thank you for reading this far! :D
