Chapter Seven
The next morning, Germany roused the Italy brothers and gave them their rations. America scooped up the straw he set out for the cat, put it back in his jacket and wandered the woods a little looking for more food. There wasn't much to be found. As they had travelled along the path, fruit trees became less plentiful, giving way to oak and maple trees, most of which were dead, with leafless branches that had curled inward towards the center of the tree. He was thankful now that Germany had saved some food for days like this, but he still wanted to add to the supply. He looked down, hoping to find some edible grasses. No such luck. Just about everything was trampled on by deer and perhaps the wild rabbits. Hoping for better luck elsewhere, he continued searching through the woods a bit further. For his efforts, he was able to identify a bush of wine berries, which he picked and brought back to the cave. As they walked, Germany and America picked the bad berries from the good, saving the good and tossing the bad.
Germany had had to cut the food allotments, as supplies were running low and they'd just took on another mouth to feed. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have had to do this, but Romano was just as big an eater as Italy. No one was happy about it, but they had to stick it out.
"Besides," said Germany. "We're bound to arrive at the wizard's home soon. He might be able to feed us."
"I guess so," said America. But the thought of a mint green rabbit made America think twice about accepting food from him.
Despite Germany's encouragements, all four of them were well aware of the dwindling supply of food. Only Pooky, who must have been finding mice and birds somewhere, didn't seem to grow any thinner. Even though it had only been a few days, everyone was sure they'd each lost a pound or two. A few mornings later, Germany was forced to hand out the last of the food. Because of the decreased rations, there wasn't much at all. A handful of berries each were given out, and nothing else remained. They'd been travelling slower, resting more often than before, and Germany and America felt more tired than before on their night watches.
"Why doesn't France attack now?" America whispered to Germany after the brothers fell asleep. "We've gotten so much weaker; he'd have the advantage."
"He might be too afraid," Germany whispered back. "But France isn't one to pass up an opportunity like this." His stomach growled, and he clutched at it. Two days without food had been giving them all hunger pains. "The fact that he won't come out in the open leads me to suspect he has a trap laid nearby."
"Do we keep going?" America asked. "He could easily have us surrounded by traps. If we decided to go back, boom. An ambush. If we decided to continue forward, boom. Another ambush."
"What other choice do we have? We'd have to go back for at least three days to get more food from familiar ground, but if we go forward, who knows what we could find. I'll bet we're closer now to the wizard than we think."
"Why do you think that?" America's stomach growled almost louder than he spoke.
"France might suspect that we'd be more likely to succumb to a trap when we've almost reached our destination. We'd be at our weakest when we find a spark of hope and go running to it. We'd have our eyes on the spark rather than the rope he wants us to trip over."
"Huh," America said. "That's really… insightful."
Germany gave a little smile.
"Does this mean it's okay to skip watch tonight?"
"Ja, I suppose so. Awake or asleep, we're in no condition to fight him off."
They were both leaning against separate trees, facing each other. The Italy brothers slept back to back, and were envied by the other two, who were often cold when they slept. It was worse now, with their hunger making the cold weather twice as bad. Without a word, America sat up away from the tree, then lay down on his side with his back facing Germany. Germany, who also hated the cold, hesitantly left his tree and lay down as well, his back pressing against America's.
"Not a word about this to anyone," America whispered as his face grew hot. At first, Germany's metal back felt extremely cold, but as it absorbed America's body heat, it began to reflect it back. This effect, paired with the straw, made them both a great deal warmer, although they were jealous of Romano's fur.
"Not a word," agreed Germany. America removed his glasses, set them a foot away, and went to sleep. Germany caught sight of the yellow bird once more until he, too, fell asleep.
France tried his hardest not to giggle in front of the others as he watched them through his crystal ball. Prussia, on the other hand, was conflicted; he didn't know whether to laugh at his brother or to be mortified. He wouldn't have felt this way if it were Italy Germany was lying next to, but America? Prussia could feel the awkwardness of the situation pulsing out of the crystal ball. Rather than keep watching, he went to the window and whistled through two fingers.
"Hey, don't do that!" France reprimanded. Prussia, however, didn't listen. The view in the crystal ball became a bird's eye view of the forest, flying to the whistler. At the window, the bird alighted on Prussia's extended finger, and Prussia's face appeared in the crystal ball.
"Why'd you do that?" France asked.
Prussia didn't answer. He stretched his arm out the window entirely, and the bird flew off to join its friends in the nests of a nearby pine tree. France sighed and threw the black sheet over the crystal ball. Prussia slipped out the door and France settled into bed.
The growling in his stomach was what woke America up. He held his eyes shut, not wanting to wake, but to no avail. He opened them. Instead of the tree and his glasses being the first thing he saw, he jumped back with a gasp when what greeted his eyes was Germany's sleeping face. It seemed they had both turned over in their sleep, and had slept facing each other for the remainder of the night. America scrambled to grab his glasses and shoved them on. After calming down a bit, he shook Germany awake, trying to push away the feelings of awkwardness that had been nagging at him since the night before. "Wake up dude," he muttered. Germany rose, stretched, and seemed too groggy to remember much. He helped America wake the other two, and they slowly made their way down the path once more.
It was torturous. Each felt that they'd pass out at any moment if they couldn't find a mouthful of food. Germany tried setting the pace for the others, but found he could hardly keep up with himself. He'd been giving the others slightly larger portions than he'd received, knowing that they were used to eating more than him. It was really America, with his absurd, youthful strength, who kept the others going.
Pooky seemed to be the only one enjoying himself. He'd swat at butterflies that passed by, and pounce on mice when he wanted a quick snack. The others were envious, but weren't about to eat the mice he caught. They hadn't travelled far when they came across a massive tree that had fallen and blocked their path. Germany and America took turns at chopping it with the axe. After several painful, sweaty hours, they'd cut through it enough to continue.
What joy had met their eyes! There, towering ahead of them less than a mile away, stood what they were sure to be the wizard's residence. The yellow path cut through a field of red flowers.
"Poppies," America pointed out to no one in particular. "That's where opium comes from."
For the time being, they forgot the rumblings in their middles and hurriedly made their way down the path again. Everyone grinned from ear to ear in anticipation. America, who had been behind them all, stopped dead in his tracks with Germany's voice echoing in his head.
"Our eyes on the spark of hope rather than the rope he wants us to trip over."
America very nearly shouted out the warning before Italy toppled over.
"Italy!" he shouted. The others turned back and ran to help him, only to have Romano pass out, as well. "It can't be the flowers," America said. "It has to be hunger; they passed out from hunger."
A tremor in the earth nearby interrupted Germany before he spoke. Five feet away, France materialized from the ground up, as if being lifted from a trap door. Behind him on either side, Prussia and Spain stood with fighting stances. Germany concentrated on France more than Prussia, and squeezed his axe in an iron grip.
Prussia snapped his fingers. From what seemed to be out of nowhere, birds appeared all around America. At all sides he felt straw being pecked out of his arms, his neck, his ears. Trying to fight them off, he looked to Germany, who appeared to be in a trance.
Germany slowly walked toward his brother, axe at his side, with small steps. Spain had made his way over to Romano and Italy. He was closer, so America tackled him. The birds, now a bit confused in all the rush, pecked at Spain and America both. They blindly swung at each other, rarely hitting anything but a never ending sea of yellow feathers.
America's stomach seized with pain. Now almost empty of straw, he slumped to the ground in defeat. "I'm so tired," he thought. Far away, what sounded like an explosion rang through the air. Pink-colored smoke wafted above him, and a metallic clanging followed by grunts of pain plagued his ears. Slowly, though, the sounds grew more and more quiet, more distant, the more he lay there. He was vaguely aware of someone re-stuffing him before he nodded off.