Chapter Five

America woke up first. Like every other day when he woke up, he didn't get up and move around right away. Instead, he lay there for a minute, and looked at the clouds. He hadn't slept outside in a long time, and made up his mind to do so more often. He sighed contentedly. A throaty snore interrupted his tranquility and he looked over in its direction. Italy lay sprawled on his back, but the snore hadn't come from him. Germany was laying on his side as best he could against the tree, and as America watched the two of them sleeping, Germany let out another snore of the same sound. America sat up and kept looking at them. Italy slowly whispered "Ve…" in his sleep two or three times, while Germany choked out an occasional snore. America considered rousing them but decided he would get some food first. He slowly climbed a tree for a few apples and nearly reached a nice, big red one when something black flashed in his eyes.

"Honhonhon…" a quiet laugh whistled in the branches.

"France," America whispered to himself. Slowly and silently, America climbed higher to hear what he was saying.

"Ah, he's so cute. Little Italy… honhonhon…"

America found himself with the confused and creeped out feeling, but was now more than ever worried about his friends. Still, he listened to what France was saying.

"What a surprise he'll have should he come to my house! Quite a pleasant surprise, too! Well, for me. Honhonhon."

America decided he'd heard enough and leapt from his branch onto France.

"Saint merde!" France shrieked. America had lost himself. He didn't remember it later, but he was at it with France. They both hit the ground with a thud, immediately waking Germany, who thought he also heard some kind of splat, but wasn't completely sure. America had a wild look in his eyes as he straddled France and repeatedly punched him in the face.

Left! Right! Left! Right! Each blow was followed by another from the other hand.

"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" France's face was being battered from all sides, something he was well aware of. In an adrenaline rush, he kneed America in his lower back, causing America to temporarily freeze with the pain that spread through him. France shoved him off, making him land and hit his back and head against the tree they'd tumbled out of. France leapt up and quickly made his way to America, who was still in shock from his blow against the bark.

Squeeakkk! The next thing France knew, two thick metal arms had wrapped around his chest. Germany had him held tightly, not intending to let go.

"Unhand me!" France cried with anger.

"Nein!" Germany screamed in his ear.

France gave a mischievous smile and his hat stood straight again. Disgusted, Germany pushed him away, causing him to run face first into another tree. France pushed himself away from it and faced Germany again, who was now standing over Italy, still sound asleep.

America groaned and shook his head. Once he opened his eyes and noticed France still there, his fighting instinct came back in an instant. He lunged for him, aiming for his waist with his shoulders, but France ducked to the side, sending America sailing into a rosebush.

"Honhonhon!" France laughed, pointing. "honhonho- urk!" Germany had kicked him in the hat.

France clutched his vital region and fell to the ground. Germany prepared to beat him some more, but France snapped his fingers. Poof! A puff of smoke and the weird smell, and France had disappeared again.

"Filthy Feigling," Germany muttered.

"What does that mean?" America moaned from the rosebush.

"Coward," Germany clarified. He went over and shook Italy awake, and they helped pull America from the bush.

"Are you okay?" Italy asked.

"Yeah, I will be. I'm just a bit sore."

This time, Italy climbed for their food and America sat down to recuperate. While they ate, Germany told Italy what he had slept through, and again admitted his lack of a heart. America set about pulling all of the thorns out of himself and massaging his sore neck. Soon, he felt well enough to continue and they made their way back down the yellow path.

Germany didn't want to abandon his axe, and made a note to use it next time they got into a tangle with France. Italy and America talked as before and led the way, while Germany walked silently behind, clutching his axe and keeping an eye out for France.

"He won't come out when you're ready for him, dude. That's what makes him a coward," America pointed out.

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared," Germany replied.

Pooky seemed to like being inside America's shirt, and America explained to Italy that it was because the straw was warm. So whenever they'd stop to rest for the night, America would pull some straw out and let the cat sleep on it. Pooky also seemed to like Germany, although he didn't sit in his lap the way he did with America or Italy. America said that it was because the metal was cold, and he didn't like it. This was okay with Germany, since he favored dogs anyway.

The path was becoming scarier the more they followed it. The dark came sooner, and the animal noises were louder and closer. Germany had found many edible grasses and herbs, which it was up to Italy to cook. Although they didn't have much but a campfire, Italy's improvised concoctions tasted much better than regular raw fruit. Germany had to keep reminding them to conserve food, in case they found themselves unable to find more, but Italy's and America's stomachs were bottomless pits. It got to the point where Germany would ration what Italy made, then save the rest in his metal torso, which, weird as it was to all of them, was as good as any refrigerator.

They continued on through the woods, hoping they would come out into a clearing soon. They kept their guard up, but knew that France could easily be hiding in the many branches of the thick trees.

"Hey, Germany," Italy murmured after a particularly creepy hoot of an owl. "Do you think there are any dangerous animals out here?"

"Like what kind of animals?" Germany answered. America again noted his tone; what would usually be a gruff, deep voice was replaced what sounded – to America – like the comforting voice of a very close friend.

"I don't know," Italy trembled. "Like a bear, or… or a mountain lion… or a tiger… or a puma… or a snake…"

Germany shook his head, making himself squeak again. "Nein; tigers and lions inhabit very different regions, as do bears. You might find a bear around here, or a mountain lion, but not both. As for snakes, ja, you might find them, but depending on the region we are in it would be hard to say which kind and whether or not they are venomous."

Even though Germany's words gave Italy an iffy answer at best, America could see that they'd given Italy a great deal of comfort; he didn't look as tense as he did when he'd asked, although he stayed close to both of them, walking in between America and Germany.

"Hey, dudes!" America exclaimed, just to break their frightened silence. "There's a rock cave over there. Want to get some shut-eye?"

"Should someone keep watch?" Germany asked.

In reply, America climbed up a tree. He selected a large, thick branch and easily ripped it from the trunk. He dropped down. "We'll be better prepared for him this time. I don't think we'll need to."

"Alright," Germany conceded. They gathered up some wood for a fire, and Germany doled out their rations.

"Oh, man, am I starving," America said. Someone's stomach growled. "I guess you guys are starving, too!" he laughed.

Germany and Italy looked at each other. "Huh?" America said. "That wasn't you guys?"

They shook their heads. America and Germany both jumped up, clutching their weapons tightly. The growl came again, farther down the cave. Without hesitating, they ran to find the source.

They hadn't run far when a small, fuzzy being landed in front of them. America and Germany took a step back as it growled again.

"Guys!" Italy panted, having caught up to them. "Yikes!" he shrieked.

America took action, hitting the thing in the head with his branch. The creature moaned and slumped to the floor. Without a word, the three took hold of the creature and brought it out into better light.

"Romano!" Italy shouted when they'd reached the mouth of the cave.