Iceland is the first to notice Peter's discomfort upon seeing the blood dampened chunk of concrete. He pauses mid-stride at the top of the ravine, curious, and waits for the others to turn back down the road before he steps over and places a hand on Peter's shoulder. He nudges him a bit, enough to at least break eye contact with the grim implications at their feet.
"I know what you're thinking," he says quietly. "It wasn't him."
Peter bites his lip and curls his fist into his windbreaker. "But what if it was?"
"It wasn't."
"How do you know?"
"Trust me." He gestures behind them with his head. "He's too stupid to even surrender properly. Even if he had no arms or legs left, he still would have been fighting them, right down to his last breath. Which he would probably waste on something dumb so he could make it like an action movie or something." He shrugs. "That's just how he is." He pats Peter's shoulder one more time and turns to head up the highway again. "C'mon, we should catch up."
Peter nods, but lingers. He turns slowly back to look at the red piece of debris again. He doesn't like how the words 'last breath' sound when Iceland says them. He says them too casually, almost like they are an afterthought of something that doesn't really matter. He knows it's an unfair assumption, but he's spent months with Denmark and it's seemed like he has been taking 'last' breaths every single day. In a way, he supposes, Denmark has been fighting, but not against an enemy or any kind of outside danger; he has been fighting himself. He's been kicking and screaming, scraping tooth and nail to keep the right to take so many last breaths and, lost cause or not, he has been winning. He's managed to tumble through more helpless situations than Peter cares to count. Floods, fires, heat, people. It's been dire, he can't even begin to deny that, but besides perhaps Sweden, Denmark is the strongest person he knows. And if he can wage war on himself and win...
Peter turns and jogs to fall into step beside Iceland. "You're right," he says and grabs the older boy's sleeve, pulling him forward in encouragement to walk faster. "There's no way that was him."
Iceland hurries along next to him. "So, you believe me?"
"Completely."
Sunrise comes before they can make it to the water. The light comes as a thick, milky gray, cold and fog riding its coat tails through the trees and blowing slow puffs of ash-laden wind against their coats in silent whirls of white noise. Finland continues to head the trail and he is too cautious for Peter's liking. His steps are measured and quiet and the rifle is kept at his shoulder with the barrel pointing out like a compass into the woods; he's stalking nothing, making absolutely sure that another dive into the ditches will not be necessary. He can appreciate it, but Peter wants to run. He wants to be brash, noisy, and unhinged, because he knows that they are getting close. He can smell the faint, sharp edge of seawater, almost akin to a well-loved perfume in the way it throws his memories loose, reminding him of home and rust and boats and abandonment. It should scare him. But while it does make his heart race, Peter is not afraid of the ocean.
He is afraid of what he will find there.
He knows that he isn't the only one, either. He can see through the hard stares and clenched jaws that Sweden and Norway both carry and through the way Iceland picks at the dry skin around his lonely fingers. Even through Finland's determined expression, Peter can see it. He can see it in all of them. They are just as tense and worried as he is, if not more. There isn't a single one of them who looks confident and the silence around them as they approach the tangle of salt-stripped trees speaks volumes, heavy and transparent, and it makes Peter's heart hurt. The fear they feel is different than his own. Peter is scared because Denmark is a new best friend; a protector and guiding figure to lead him through what is left. He's put Peter before himself in every respect and kept him safe, kept him company, and showed him how to keep himself. He's just been there and Peter is terrified because if Denmark is dead, he will never be able to forgive himself.
