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🇵🇱&🇩🇪 The hunt Poland & Germany

A/N very important
Hello!
You need to read this to understand what is happening.
So this was an old story that I edited quite a bit during the last two days so it differs a bit from my usual stuff and is pretty short.
This is the first chapter of three this story will get and the most important one. This is the basic story and ends on a cliffhanger. The next two chapters will be a good and a bad ending for it.
You're probably gonna have to wait longer for the good ending, cause I already started on the bad one.
Now that you know a bit more have fun!
Words: 1093

"Hurry up, we have to get going! If we don't get there before midnight we might not be able to make it out of here." Poland urged Germany. A noticeable pressure in his tone of voice made the slight uncertainty in his features stand out just that much more. He had forced himself to keep up a facade of fearlessness and show strength over the course of this entire journey, more so this nightmare. Staying determined to get the both of them back home safely. In contrast to Germany who had already given up all hope, Poland clung to this last bit of hope like a lifeline.
"I'm trying my best here!" Germany grumbled back. Pain laced his every word and expression. His body was still sore from the previous hunt they somehow managed to survive and he really just wanted to lay down somewhere and rest, even if for only a minute. A minute that could cost them everything here and made it impossible to stop moving.
His vision was blurred and slowly but surely he was growing weaker and weaker. It had gotten to the point where the ache in his every movement and the urge to lay down and rest was all that really occupied his mind. At first he had tried to remain hopeful and use logical explanations, he blamed the blur in his vision on the loss of his glasses and the taunting ache on his several wounds. Although as time passed on it was becoming clear to him that that was just his mind's desperate attempts to push the blame away from its source in order to keep him going.
Poland started to notice the shift in Germany's behavior and movements, convincing himself that it was just the soreness of the previous days he brushed it off at first. He also felt the pain of dozens of open grazes on his body. In comparison to Germany he was far more used to them. He had always been athletic and spent his time in nature, Germany was an artist, a bookworm, he much rather spent his time inside. While Poland could barely sit still for 2 Minutes, Germany wouldn't move for hours, Poland could run for ages without problems, Germany struggled after a minute or so.
The forest's ground was uneven, roots sticking out everywhere, the trees stood dense and barely let any light of the late dawn enter the forest. Nothing unusual for the Pole, an immense challenge for the German. It was hard to walk, which made their descent down the big mountain quite complicated. Poland's hope slowly began to dwindle and frustration settled in.
They would never be able to get to the river in the center of the valley if they kept this pace.
Suddenly there was a dump thud of something falling to the floor behind him. The boy immediately whipped around, quietly wincing from the pain any sudden movement brought. The pain gripped his focus for a second jaw and eyes clenching shut and lips pulling back making his teeth slightly visible. He regained his composure  and scanned the environment behind him for the source of the noise. Nothing was there.
Nothing was there!
He became frantic, looking around for Germany and finding him next to a tree, on his knees doubled over while clutching his stomach with both arms and hands. Tears streamed down his far too pale face like rivers and his mouth opened in a silent scream, his vocal cords only producing a little crackling noise. Dark trails of blood slowly started to run over the fingers of his left hand. Poland rushed to his side hurriedly picking up his head from the dirt and dead leaves, laying it on his chest. In an instant he ripped off his button up shit’s right sleeve, bundled it up, grabbed the other's right elbow and tried to pull Germany's arm away to press it atop of the wound. His knuckles grazed against something weirdly hard and thin, somewhat like a stick, when he grabbed his friend's elbow. He decided to better ignore it for now and see for himself once the wound was actually reachable. When he was finally able to pull his arm away, Germany's bloodied left hand clutched his right sleeve and pulled it toward himself. Staining the dirty white an almost black shade of red. Poland looked at the bloody hand and felt panic rapidly building up within him.
What happened? Germany didn't have a wound that bad yesterday. A quick look at his friend's face showed it twisted in immense pain, so he directed his focus back onto the wound. And that's when he saw it. A bloody Arrow, laing right beside Germany's leg. It must have fallen out when he pulled his arm away. Upon closer inspection he figured it had a tip made to hold a bit of poison within. He had learned that from his father, at least something useful, even if he wished to never actually need that knowledge. There was now just one more problem, a pretty big one at that. Where there is an arrow being shot there's got to be an archer shooting it somewhere.
Somewhere nearby.
Poland straightened his upper body and looked up the mountain behind Germany to be greeted by the sight of an archer aiming at his chest somewhat hidden between the trees and bushes.
In his mind it was like time had stopped. He realized that it was now his decision to either leave Germany to be killed by the archer and run or to be helplessly and without cover exposed to his next shot. But fate and his instincts would make that decision for him within a split second as the tendon of the bow was let loose and shot forward, sending its deadly appendage flying in his direction.