Norway hadn't returned.

Denmark had expected him to be gone for a few hours, maybe, calming himself down and gathering his thoughts. But here it was, the next morning, and Norway was nowhere to be found.

Guilt consumed Denmark. Had something happened to Norway?

Panic rose in his chest. What if something had happened to Norway? What was he going to do?

He took slow, deep breaths. Norway was probably just fine. He'd probably fallen asleep and was just waking up…

"He's fine. Norge can take care of himself," he muttered aloud.

Denmark knew he was lying to himself.

"Denmark, top o' th' mornin'."

Damn. The Irelands.

"What?"

"Wellanow, Denmark, can we talk t' ya?"

"I'm a little busy."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, have you seen Norway?"

"No. Why? Is-"

"-he missin'?"

Denmark hated it when the Irelands finished each other's sentences. "Yes, he's missing."

"Ah. Well, we 'aven't seen 'im."

"I've looked through the whole camp."

"Hey, we'll help ya look fer 'im."

"Thanks. He might be in the woods somewhere…"

"Ye've got problems with people leaving ya, don't ye?"

"No!"

"He's lying." Switzerland joined their little group. "I'll help you look."

Denmark glared at Sweden. It had no effect.

"Well, come along now, m'lad. 'E won't get found if we don't look fer 'im."

Denmark led the way out of the camp in the direction Norway had gone.

Eventually, they came to a clearing. There were signs of a plane taking off and landing, but, of course, no plane. There were also signs of a struggle: blood, scuffed-up dirt.

Denmark frowned.

Something had happened here.

He studied the tire marks from the plane. American tires from an American plane? Yes, definitely.

America had probably been here.

Tracks led from the plane's landing spot. Two sets. One was just drag marks. The other was composed of footprints, too big to be Norway's. Denmark could only assume that Norway had been dragged at some point. The tracks led to a patch of earth that was completely torn up. Two sets of footprints led away from the patch. Or rather, to the patch. One was clearly Norway's.

"Denmark."

Denmark turned to see Switzerland pointing at something in the dirt. Something glinted in the sunlight. Curiously, Denmark walked over to investigate.

Sitting in a pool of congealing blood was a small, silver cross.