Two days passed with none stop riding. The noise of the exhausted horses rang insanely in their tired ears. Every now and then they were forced to stop so the beasts wouldn't collapse, and they always took this time regaining energy themselves or washing up in a nearby stream, tending to the weary horses, something of that sort.
Matthew hadn't moved from his spot against the wall, laying away from the others, he didn't speak or look at them. Normally this may sound normal for the shy boy but he was unresponsive to offering of food and water or to wash up. He would simply stay as he was, and each time this happened Arthur would fearfully check to make sure the bloody blonde was still alive. But he was. His skin was hardly there, it seemed, as lifeless as a broken doll he just bounced up and down as the cart moved. That was his only movement and even the Italians couldn't get him to change.
Maybe he was dead. Maybe his mind had given out, his guiltless soul too petrified and crushed with unmerciful lies and cruel beatings. Had it given up and cast itself away, his soul? Leaving only the shelf of a motionless child to tend to itself or be cared for like a puppet?
Eventually they had tried forcing him to eat. That didn't work. The food they shoved into his mouth only sat there getting moist with what little saliva his dehydrated body could produce. They cleaned him off though. Ripping off part of the bag Spain had used to carry their merchandise from the village they made makeshift rags. Taking them to a nearby stream, Arthur and Antonio got them wet and came back to the cart. Arthur lifted the limp boy so he was sitting up and started carefully wiping away the dirt and dried up blood covering his pale form. He removed the shirt he wore and set it aside. The Spanish man removed the Canadian's rough shoes and cut up pants so only his under garments remained and cleaned him the best he could.
They laid him back down after finishing and threw the rags out of the cart before climbing out themselves. They went back to the water and tried their best at washing away the grossness from the clothing before coming back and setting the items on hot rocks to dry in the bright sun.
Though the sun shone brightly and beat their bodies, they were north now and the chilly air was almost cold enough for Arthur to compare to the icy waters he fell in. Each of them, including Matthew who was covered by Romano and Italy, were smothered in one of the blankets the Spaniard had brought them from the village.
"We are near." England announced, still using the blanket to keep the fierce winds from hitting his face. They had hit the dirt roads again almost two hours ago and had been silent the entire time. They flew through a forest, enormous trees towered over them easily and into the grey sky. Arthur supposed they were lucky it wasn't snowing where they were just yet. He wasn't sure the horses or the cart could make it through. Actually, he wasn't sure they could.
The relief didn't last long though. As they climbed higher north east, quickly they could feel the change in temperature. The snowflakes fell, each individual free faller fluttering down gently as they rode on. It was peaceful, actually, and calming though they made the ride colder it was bearable. But just as quickly as the air shifted, the free falling gliders turned into harsh divers, pelting Arthur as hard as they could from the darkening sky. The sunlight was limited now and the horses crunched the rising snow with difficulty.
"Just a little farther! On ward!" He whipped the ropes, urging the two creatures in front of him onward.
The ride slowed and the breath of the horses and Arthur was visible in the chilly air.
"Arthur," Antonio said suddenly. "Arthur, perhaps you should take a break, let me-"
"No. You don't know how to get there and I don't feel like looking over your imprudent shoulder and telling you which way to turn every five seconds. Bloody Spaniard, use your brain." But even his threats and insults were chilled with the weather.
The English blonde tugged the thin cover around him tighter, trying to keep as much warmth around him as he could. His body was numb as it had been in the water and tears stung in his bitter eyes.
"Arthur," Spain muttered, crawling over and leaning over the seat to see the Englishman's pale face. "Arthur? Arthur? Arthur! Arthur, wake up!" He shrieked abruptly, grabbing the man still holding the ropes and staring forward. At the sudden movement, the Brit's head rolled back limply though his fists never removed themselves from the ropes. His face even whiter than normal, with no color left and frost had begun to cover his color drained lips, nose and eyelashes. Snow built up on his shaggy hair, melting and the melted water ran down his face and neck and soaked into the blanket and his clothes.
Spain smacked England's face lightly, trying to get a response. "Arthur, hey! England!" But still nothing, the horses rode on despite no one watching where they were going. Antonio's green eyes stared shocked into the lifeless emerald ones as he held the other's dead skull.
"Romano, Italy! Take Arthur!" He commanded loudly over the sound of the violent wind. He started pulling the Brit over the front seat and into the back of the carriage. Then, grabbing the ropes he forced the horses to slow their pace into a more comfortable trot.
"What wrong with him!" The Northern Italian wailed, small, thin hands touching the freezing skin of Arthur's face, wiping off the frost and snow. Romano grabbed a different blanket, throwing Arthur's wet one in the corner and covering him carefully.
"I…I don't know." Spain bit his cheek when the two Italians looked at him in shock. If Antonio didn't know…how could they fix it? How could they keep Arthur from-
The tan man looked down at Arthur's wilted form, his eyes still open and arms outstretched as if he still had the ropes. He moved his body so it was more relaxed. He closed the man's eyes and pushed his stiff arms to his side. "Just keep him warm. Care to him the best you can, I have to go up front."
"What! No! Antonio, then the same will just happen to you and then where will we be!" Romano cried out.
Spain smiled at him, wrapping his blanket around himself. "Just be strong, it's better than us just sitting here completely blind. Besides, Arthur said we were almost there. I shouldn't be up here long enough for that to happen." So, he moved forward despite the protest and whipped the ropes like Arthur had.
The Italians stared at the frozen driver laying there beside them.
"Let's move him." Romano suggested. "Next to Matthew." He lifted himself to his knees, and his younger brother followed. Pulling as gently but still as much as they could, they got the Brit and the Canadian beside one another. It was then they froze themselves and stared frightenedly at the pair.
They looked exactly alike. Both lifeless, skin stony white, lying motionless save the bouncing of the cart. They both seemed oddly thin and just then they realized how little Arthur had actually eaten himself while trying to get the younger boy to feed. The Italians just sat there then, deaf to all other noise, even their own breathing. They weren't even sure if they were anymore.
"Arthur." Came the sound suddenly and the two's eyes shifted from the Brit to the Canadian. "Arthur." He mused again, turning on his bruised side his right arm moved with such puppet likeness it made the two witnesses shiver. But the boney hand trailed across his savior's face lightly before grazing towards his torso. His arm wrapped loosely, though obviously that was as tightly as he could manage now, around the older man. He stared at the other beside him with foggy, violet eyes before closing them again, Arthur never flinching as the underling moved next to him.
Lovino and Feliciano held one another tightly. His movements…that wasn't Canada. That couldn't have been. It was…it was too dead! To zombie! A half bodied ghost! And his voice, it had been quiet like always, but especially now. But it wasn't just; it creaked, strained starkly, like a broken person's last breath.
But Spain hadn't noticed and kept driving.
An hour passed, shouldn't they be there? Romano got up and went to Spain for what seemed the millionth time, checking him. Wiping snow from his face and his long, brown hair strapped into a ponytail with a red ribbon. He changed his blanket when his other started to soak and then would go back and hugged his brother, sharing a blanket after having given the unknowing Spain his since it had been warm already from his own body.
Later, Romano grasped that he had fallen asleep. How long had he been? His brother was beside him, snoring gently and England and Canada were still unmoved. He got up, seeing it had turned almost dark, but Spain was still going.
"Spain! Spain! Stop, you won't be able to see for much longer. We should just stop now."
"Ah, Romano." The Spaniard said softly, his voice abnormally different. It made Romano's spine tingle. "It's alright. We'll just go a little farther. Did you fall asleep? I was wondering why you hadn't come up here in a few hours."
Hours?
Lovino's hazel eyes glanced over his Captain and he gasped, his fingers had the same icy, blue glaze Arthur's had begun to get, his blanket was now drenched and his shaggy head was plastered in snow and rime.
How was it still even day at all? Shouldn't it be the middle of night by now? The moon was out, and it was dark, but not midnight dark. The sun was just scrapping the horizon. "Wh-What day is it, idiot?"
Spain looked from the road, his eyes glassy like Arthurs frozen ones. "I'm not sure. Tomorrow, I know. The moon shone through the clouds, don't worry."
"You rode through the night, idiot! We're probably way past our desti-" He froze, Spain started to tilt to the side though his plastic smile stained his frozen face. "H-Hey! Bastard! Stop, watch the road! Spain! Spain, stop! You're going to fall! Stop!" His thin arms stretched out, but the Spaniard was too far and when he grabbed his Captain's soaked coat, they both started to fall. "Spain!"
Cold.
It was cold.
No. No, it wasn't cold. It was subzero. It was numbing. It was…
Pain.
It shot through the half unconscious Italian's body. His tear pricked eyes looked around, vision blurred. Did he remember hearing a crash? Or was it bones cracking? Both? It was both. Yes, most certainly…both. He saw red. Lots of red. It covered his body, it came from it. His ribs, they were crushed. He knew they were though the pain was intense. He knew also that the bloody snow he was lying face down in was numbing his body, so it wasn't as bad. He could see Spain beside him, also in the snow and crimson liquid pouring from his body too though he stayed unconscious.
How lucky. How lucky he was, to die asleep. Not like he was. No, Lovino was awake, only half, but he was and dying. He could feel it, the life draining as quickly as the blood from his body. This must've been how Arthur had felt before. He never thought he would be able to imagine.
Arthur? Where were he, and Matthew, and fratello?
He couldn't hear the cart a longer. He saw it though. It was on its side, and the horses in front of it had finally given up and accepted their fate, much like he had laying here in the snow. Three limp bodies were near it. Two blonde, one with shiny, auburn hair. But all three thrown carelessly out into the snow like he and his Captain had been. All were unconscious but him. How had it wrecked, anyway?
Oh yeah. He and Spain. They'd fallen, he pieced together, and the pain, his broken ribs, they'd been run over by their own cart. It had broken the wheel too. He managed to move his head just a bit to see down at his body better. Bits of wood from the wheel were lodged into his flesh. Yes, he'd taken most of the damage from it. Not Spain. Lucky bastard. Lucky…damn lucky…lover…Spain…
Maybe he was lucky too. Maybe, cause soon he felt his own mind start to give out and slowly he started to lose consciousness like the rest of them. But what was that noise now? So close, yet so faint? Snow being crushed by practiced footsteps.
"Ah, I have visitors." Romano heard an unfamiliar voice say, almost delighted, it sounded. He passed out no later after hearing the stranger's next comment. "Ah, I hope none of them are dead yet, da!"