Inspired by Glassamilk's Gutters and Sunruner's Walls.

NOTE: You don't have to have read Gutters or Walls to read this. I have also described some things to acknowledge those not familiar to the Hetalia fandom. Hopefully this is enough. Hetalia's not mine.

Part 1 is now available. (Retrace: Pavements)

Also Available in Archive of Our Own!

WARNING Rated T-M: May contain GRAPHIC, DARK CONTENT like dead things, insults and blood.

I will address to as much mistakes as I can. Thank you and I wish you luck on traversing this hell with Romania, Switzerland and Hungary! :D

1: The First Prey

(~)

He was trying to keep quiet, but the drag of the wooden sled against the cold stone rattled with noise. Droplets of water plopped on the wet, slippery cavern floors, rhythmically disguising the pitter-patter of little feet lurking behind him. Though he knew a young child was following him, he had only smiled and proceeded to the cave's exit.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, the young man hastily hauled the barrow through the hidden passage way. He left it leaning against the mouth of the cave and went back inside to fetch the last of his bags. The moment he re-entered, sad eyes and tiny fingers, greeted him.

"Are you leaving us again?" asked the little girl, tugging on his dark red-purple coat as he picked up the last of his things. "Where are you going? Can I go with you?"

The young male kneeled to her level and with a gloved hand he lifted her chin. "I won't be gone for so long."

The girl was only six years old and yet, her tired eyes displayed a motherly concern years beyond her age. A Calamity, they called it, had shaken the world more than a month ago and tremendously changed the people who survived it, including this one little child he cared for.

Her name was Nadia, an orphan who grew fond of him after he had rescued her from the terrifying events of June. She was one of many who were saved and safely hidden in the caverns they now called home.

"Copilule, îţi mai spun o dată," he smiled reassuringly, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I leave once in a while because I want to buy you toys and get some…um…groceries. I've been gone before and I've returned, see? Besides, your friends always keep you company, am I right?"

The little girl whimpered. "But they're not as fun as you, Mister Alex! You always have jokes and…and sometimes everyone here…we just don't know if you'll ever come back and stuff!"

"Nu te teme de zmei." The man hugged her tightly, letting her sob in his arms.

He was gentle towards children and he loved them like they were his own. Unfortunately he had never adopted any, nor had his own sons or daughters. He wasn't to have any children under his name because he was an entirely different being with larger responsibilities than a man. With a body of one, human-shaped, alike in appearance and in every aspect a person, but with a part in his soul that deviated from the norm.

He was not the only one of this kind. There were others out there who had probably survived the Calamity and he hoped to find any of them.

For a long while, he did not say anything as he was immersed with the cave's ambience and Nadia's tiny sniffles. He could hear the slithering droplets of a stream, soaking the walls and floors of the cave, and the sounds seemed to slow down time.

All of a sudden, he sensed silent footsteps and anxious heartbeats. A small group of folks reluctantly approached them, and he felt now was the time for him to leave.

The man stood and took his bags and gas mask, as people emerged out of the shadows, watching him prepare to depart. They looked at him like he was their Saviour and the notion was a heavy burden on his shoulders.

He turned to an odd bunch of men lined up before the group and addressed the usual routines when he traveled out. Every healthy person in the caves had a responsibility with an addition to more jobs when he was absent. Nadia, though a child, had a duty to look after the other children.

His patrol men, trustworthy and stealthy soldiers whom he had chosen to take charge, had the utmost crucial duty to secure the outside perimeters of the cave. He made sure every single individual adhered to each other; from the youngest to the eldest. Everyone contributed.

Order among them was manageable because they were a large populace, content, satisfied, and simply grateful to be alive. No one really complained with the living conditions in the vast tunnelling grottos. They had each other to look after and there was not much to complain about with a good food supply and descent living materials.

Before disappearing out the passage, he glanced back one more time and grinned merrily to the worried faces of the men, women and children who depended on him.

When circumstances despaired and provisions dwindled, he was forced to leave and travel outside, usually alone. He was always missed by his people, especially the children. His absence had always worried them and at times, they claimed feeling quite vulnerable without him.

Their concern gnawed him inside. Alas, he had to go through it. He had to leave every now and then.

He had solely made himself the leader after all, and not only that, he was a stronger being, a longer, lasting, youthful representative being of them. Of his country.

He was an embodiment, a Nation-being. His people did not know, and they would probably never ever know. Though, he was not the only one living in deception. Nation-beings abounded the earth ever since mankind had established territories. The oldest Nation-beings had died off of age or faded away into memories, their bodies turning mortal and human. But as people had founded more land and established new countries, his kind flourished, born and raised into nations. They were made to maintain their people, their history, their country and their legacy...

"I will return," the young man boldly reassured, hoping to lighten the mood. "I have always returned! Maybe this time, I'll bring back a rubber chicken!" His beloved audience chuckled, and with the tip of his hat and a wink, he was gone.

One of the patrol men slowly administered the people to their responsibilities. Nadia lingered at the exit, gazing listlessly at the passage, as if the man who left was only playing a game of peekaboo. An old woman and one of the skinny patrol men joined her. The old senior was one of the cooks who managed the children's meals. She usually looked after the little girl, because out of all other children, Nadia always reminded her of when she was young.

"Dear, let's get cooking for super," sighed the old woman, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder.

A patrol man nicknamed "Lanky", stood between Nadia and the passage. The soldier was skinny, and it was quite obvious he was more of a runner than a skilful fighter. His nickname actually came by accident. The so-called Saviour mentioned it once to poke fun of him, and then the name stuck ever since. Lanky, whose actual name was Marku Sala, never minded the label – in fact he grew quite fond of it. He felt like the name was a knightly title given by their respected odd leader. At least, it was a step up in the ranks reputation-wise and since none of the patrol men wore uniforms, a nickname gave recognition.

"Kid, he told us he'll be gone for 'nother eight days," he said.

For a moment, Nadia just looked at him, wondering if he was playing soldier or was actually one of the chosen patrol men. She nodded quickly and skittered away deep into the candle-lit cavern hall, her footsteps echoing behind her.

The old woman turned to the patrol man. "She's just frightful when he leaves!"

"Like the rest of us, Miss," Lanky told her. "But if he don' travel, then we're all, y'know, doomed."

"I still don't understand why he does not bring any of you along! He needs all the help he can get!" The old woman huffed and kicked at the dirt.

Lanky sighed, glancing at the passageway as if something was going to enter. "I know, Miss…that's something I've nev' come to understand from 'm. He told us he'll be faster travelin' by himself 'cause h'knows the short routes, Miss. Said 'e can dodge any danger 'nd stuff. Perhaps he's jus' invisible or somethin'...

"We don' know all of 'im, Miss, he jus' knows what's going on more d'n us, y'know?" He shrugged. "I think 'es after som'thin'…maybe lookin' fer someone. But it's none of our business to pry, y'know?"

"I don't care what he thinks is going on or what he's after! That gas mask will not protect him forever!" The woman threw her arms up and started after Nadia. "I just hope he knows how much he's got to lose here!"

Lanky strolled after her to safely escort through the cavern halls. "He's got an agenda, Miss. I think he'll tell us what's in it when 'e comes back."

Corpses.

A revolting stench lingered in her nostrils, and to make matters worse, an enormous amount of weight was pressing against her body to suffocation. The woman's chest heaved in vain for a gulp of precious air.

Air.

She choked and coughed out a thick, curdling liquid forming in her throat. Feeling as if she was wedged under something of extreme weight, her hands and feet felt numb. Limbs trapped under unusually soft dirt, it was hard to wriggle around. It's so dark, she thought to herself. Where am I? What? I am…Hungary. Elizaveta Hédévary. Yes. I…I…can't recall what…Istenem, my head's throbbing! Water. I feel thirsty….

Her body barely moving, the Nation opened her eyes. Horror descended in her soul at the sight.

Corpses.

She was caved in a piling mass of pale, lifeless bodies with only a plank of wood holding up the dead right above her. The bodies were so numerous that there was barely any light from the surface.

Corpses

It was a cave made up of the dead and she felt like one of the bricks holding it up. The bodies trapping her were cold and drenched with muddied water dripping from an unknown source. She started sweating. Under these conditions, who knew how long she could stay alive in here? How long had she even been in here? She could feel heat emanating from the surface above, but the bodies surrounding her were strangely cold. It was rather disturbing to find any comfort.

Among the dead there were some naked but the rest were clothed with tattered rags. Most of them were men and women, but what really broke her heart were the few lifeless bodies of children among them. There were probably layers and layers of bodies around her. Digging herself out of this mess would take hours. She was virtually drowning under the spell of her worst nightmares.

Hungary struggled upright after freeing her limbs. She gave herself a quick stretch, and then noticed the flower piece missing from her hair. A little distraught, she brushed it aside and focused on the matters at hand, trying not to panic as her senses became more and more overwhelmed with every second.

Resisting the urge to retch from the sight and smell, she pushed her way upwards. She was careful not to knock the wooden plank for fear that the dead would collapse on her. Slowly but surely, her legs and arms writhed through climbing over body after body. She was a little fortunate that the corpses were easy to shove aside as she wormed her way through them. The Hungarian struggled to overcome the claustrophobic proximity of the dead, keeping calm, breathing through her nose and gently handling the corpses with soft nudges and grips. In an unsettling way, it felt intimate.

It was a grueling process, and the dread of one of the corpses suddenly coming to life and attacking her lingered in her mind. The scent of decomposing flesh made her feel nauseous and shake, but she was able to make good progress.

A moment passed when the mass gave a sickening drop beneath her. As she paused for a moment to regain her breath, Hungary figured the wood plank below finally gave way. The collapse beneath opened up a hole above, letting in a bright ray of light shine down like a beacon of hope. With newfound spirit, the Nation climbed on, but as she neared the top she gradually started coughing; what looked like snow fall was actually ash and it was filling her lungs rapidly.

Her lungs writhed in pain as she climbed up higher, coughing until something thick choked in her throat. Something like…mucus? Panicking at the thought of blood and ash, she tore a shred of cloth off her tattered uniform and held it up to her mouth to limit ash intake.

Her throat convulsed violently and her eyes watered. She collapsed in a fit of coughs as her body involuntarily tried to free itself of the glue-like congealment. To her surprise, the fluid was not blood, but an illuminating blue-green. Weird. Since when does mucus glow? Hungary thought as she cleared the rest of the strange substance from her lungs. She was so confused. Glowing green? What is this, from the ash…?

Her hand wandered in one of the pockets of her torn military uniform and fished out a half empty syringe. The liquid in it was the same colour. Who -? She gasped at the memory of a man – the man who orchestrated an everlasting symphony. Austria. "Just you and me."

Returning the needle back in her pocket, his memory gave her a renewed fiery spirit that propelled her up the seemingly endless mountain of corpses. Where are you, Roderich? Eyes squinting at the light from the surface, she hacked more ashy mucus out of her body before reaching out of the dead mound. When she emerged from the pit tears rolled down her cheeks as a wave of sadness wrenched her heart.

The dead corpses were the bodies of her people.

She sobbed so hard, careless of the noise she made as she dragged herself out of the nightmare. For all she could tell, the place was grey and desolate with a constant haze of ash silently descending upon the earth. Although she dug herself out of the bodies, there was another ditch containing her. It was a much wider crater, the bodies had sunken even further at its epicentre where she lay by its brim. Thankfully, it was an easier climb to ground level.

Hungary peered over the crater and saw a dusty, grey plain with random spikes of charred trees. Alone and exhausted, the Nation stayed where she was, until her tears turned to fright when she noticed something overwhelming.

A sorrowful sight of carcasses scattered uniformly across the mound. The grotesque bodies that laid on top suffered heat but what made Hungary bolt upright horror-stricken were the sight of some of them cut up and torn like, they were…half-eaten.

There was a sudden growl within the Hungarian that surprised her. Hunger. But I would have died long ago if I was famished…No. When have I…? How long has it been…? She assumed that the green serum had something to do with this.

Austria gave it to her – a while ago, maybe? And it had been working inside her body ever since she injected it – which was when exactly? Clouded by hunger and trauma, she could barely recall what had happened.

Her stomach turned at the thought of feasting on the gruesome decay. My people! My children! Istenem, you have forsaken me! Maddened and outraged, Hungary tore the silence with wails of pain that came from her heart. I'm hungry! I don't know where I am! My people! Oh god, my children! This is your worst –! Her knees weakened and once again she collapsed to the ground in a sobbing heap. The silence was broken by her muffled cries as she fought to regain some composure. Within the passing minutes, Hungary closed her eyes to recover and find stillness. It was utterly quiet before she heard something just outside the crater.

Instinctively, she armed herself with a bone from one of the carcasses and quickly pressed her body against the crater's slope to hide. Heart racing, she could hear disembodied breathing coming closer. There were light footsteps and the sound of something heavy – possibly wooden – being dragged in the dust.

It stopped.

Something dropped to the ground in a thump and a wary silence followed.

Hungary clenched the long bone, like she would a sword.

Nothing stirred.

It was as if the thing above waited for her to make noise. A chilling thought shook her blood. What if it's a…a man-eating creature?

Taking a risk, she pulled herself together and peered over the slope, her bone ready to club the nearest beast. She froze when she saw a figure hunched over a wooden sled filled with crates. It was clearly unaware of her presence. Something about the figure did not look human, and when Hungary emerged out of the crater's wall to investigate she realized it was a decoy.

A gloved hand snatched her bone and clutched her good arm. Screaming, she wrestled her arm away from the stranger and kicked impulsively, only to stumble back down the slope.

From his lean stature, the stranger was a young man, wearing a dark purple-reddish coat, with folded sleeves, striped inside. He had on dark pants, sturdy, agile boots, and was wearing a hood over his head and a three-filter gas mask that covered his whole face. It was hard to tell who was beneath it at first, but the overcoat was somewhat familiar.

Defenseless and worn out, Hungary scrambled back. The Nation painfully anticipated for a pending attack, but instead, the stranger was examining the bone he held.

He chuckled. "Humor me with the humerus? You are going mad." The young man disposed the bone, deeming it useless. "I can't believe that of all people of our kind I find you first."

Hungary was thinking the same thing. She instantly recognized the accent and with a hiss in her voice she uttered his name with distaste. "Románia…"

The stranger turned to face her and tossed his hood off carelessly. He flourished a small hat from his jacket pocket and placed it on his light gold-brown hair. Revealing his face behind the mask, he raised an eye-brow at her and smirked.

"You look ravishing in the colour dead white," he said uninterestedly. He picked up his sled and started to tow it away.

Hungary pleaded the god above for a frying pan right now. She jumped to her feet furiously and stepped over the slope. Her rage ignited when she stumbled on to the surface to level with him.

"You son of a land-grabber!" She did not know why she was yelling. "Tell me where I am or I'll –" she broke off, a fit of coughs interrupting her. Stomach convulsing and knees giving in, once again she spewed out glowing fluids.

Romania approached her with a second gas mask. "A witch has cursed you," he mumbled, reluctantly handing it to her. "Not that you weren't cursed before or anything..."

"I am not taking that, you idiot! Especially from you!" Hungary resisted, not entirely meaning her words.

"Fine," Romania sighed, dropping the mask before her, his cheery tones diminished. "Take it from the ground then." And with that, he marched back to his sled.

Crouched and muddied on the ground, for a moment Hungary felt fragile. Olive hair in tangles, her face and skin was matted with sweat, dirt and ash. Hunger lurched her stomach. Staring out in the distance, she desperately wondered if her long lost companions were somewhere over the horizon. She thought for a moment. Who else do I remember? The grey barren land bore nothing but blackened trees and a crater of the dead.

"Just tell me which way is west," she grumbled at the Romanian. "I want to get away from here…And I definitely do not want your pity."

"What makes you think I pity you?" replied the other Nation. "I am simply giving you things that would be able to last you…er…maybe for a day out here –give or take a couple of hours. Magyar, you have no idea what you're up against." In front of her, he dropped a pair of boots and a half-opened can of soup.

Hungary got up, disregarding the offered materials. She was frustrated at how it was Romania who found her and not someone else. Why him?! Of all others… She gritted her teeth. The Hungarian Nation tried recalling the day of the Calamity, but her mind was a confusing whirl of disarray, from corpses to ash and needles. She started pacing back and forth in disappointment, trying to piece together the puzzle of memories spiralling in her brain.

Romania leaned against a blackened tree near his sled, watching her curiously. "What are you doing?" he asked.

Careful not to fall in, Hungary walked along the perimeter of the god-forsaken ditch. Remembering…

Sirens ringing, cars melting, people running, fires erupting with deadly fumes, her people crowding into the nearest shelters. There was a cry for her name… An earthquake dividing the manor she was in…The serum injecting in her body...Families running eastwards…Her pursuit for them…Buildings collapsing...The sink hole dragging her down… Austria. Prussia. Germany. Italy. Switzerland. Liechtenstein. Belarus. Turkey. The Words. The Great World Gathering. The Allegiances. Her Kingdom. The Austro-Hungarian Empire. The Revolts. The Wars…

It was all giving her a damned headache.

On the other end of the crater, Hungary glanced at the far distance beyond, and from what she could see there were ruins fogged up by ashes. The Great Plains. The edge of the rolling land of her beloved country. Even further, her eyes found a different colour sliced against the grey. Water? Hungary gasped. The Danube. The river could take her west to Austria. But she did not remember the river this close inland…

She walked back to where Romania stood; his back to her as he was putting away the decoy he had set up. Hungary begrudgingly replaced her torn boots with the ones Romania gave and picked up the soup he provided. She was infuriated at how the new boots fit snugly along her calves and how delicious the soup tasted when she drank it down. Of all people…why?

The other Nation could not help but let out a laugh, even with his back turned to her he could sense her growling. "Ha, ha! I can tell you've surrendered to those wicked things!"

Hungary kept calm but inside she wanted to explode. She picked up the mask and put it on. Thick air filled her lungs when she breathed in it, ash raked in her throat, making her cough. Romania hadn't given her a good mask, or maybe it was just because he dropped it on the ground earlier.

"Wow…" Hungary grunted, loosening the mask from her face, she let it dangle around her neck uselessly. "You give people the crappiest things, Romania. It's no surprise."

She could tell Romania was grinning behind his gas filters. "I am saving the best ones for my people," he said. "They are far more important than you, you know. Oh! And I should have mentioned that I've just poisoned the soup!" Romania sarcastically added, as he tied up the load on his sled. "But don't you fret; I know this magical spell that will rid of all the bad things and whatnot...then again it might rid of you entirely...Well if that happens, I won't have to worry about your little complaints. Now if I were you, I would shut up and head southeast."

Out of nowhere, Hungary violently shoved Romania to the dust, and then wrenched open one of his crates of supplies. And head west! That was her plan, indeed an insanely rash one. She felt no resistance from Romania. He's too much of a coward to fight back, she thought. Ha! I am almost finished ransacking his first crate and –her hand suddenly felt a familiar object.

The Hungarian took out a lightweight stainless steel frying pan from one of the bags. Although used and burnt at the bottom, it was a beautiful sight to see. She looked closely. Romania's face was reflected on its surface. His eyes were dark and conniving.

In a mad frenzy, she swung the pan but missed. Romania grabbed the mask looped around her neck and pulled. Trying to twist herself free while maintaining her balance, Hungary swung her new weapon around to knock him out cold, but his hand gripped her arm constraining her assault. The strap of the mask along her neck choked her the more she struggled.

"Stop strangling yourself, damn it!" Romania hissed in her ear. "Stupid witch, just relax and I'll let go! But I'm not letting you steal anything from me!"

Hungary had had enough, and with every ounce of strength she had left, she freed her arm and swung her pan blindly again. PANG! She felt Romania's grip loosen. His hands flew to his head to stop an internal tremor, quite deafening that only he could hear pounding in his skull.

"Serios, Ungaria?!" cried the Romanian.

Hungary pointed the pan at him, ready for another attack, but instead, he dropped to the ground in defeat, brushing the back of his head as it earned a bruise.

"Get up!" growled Hungary, not knowing why she was trembling. "I'm taking some of your things to head WEST! I need to find Austria and the others!" Feeling her throat itch again, with her other hand she put on the mask around her neck.

Romania sat up but did not answer. He avoided her burning glare.

"I said get up!" she commanded, slightly muffled by the mask.

Finally the Nation met her eyes. "Really, Hungary? You seriously expect to prance across a dead land and find dearly beloved, Mister Austria, who you think is still alive?" A grin twisted across his face.

"Shut. Up." Hungary snarled, resisting the urge to break his skull.

The Romanian was unyielding. "Do you seriously think that you are able to walk across your god forsaken country with nothing but a frying pan and a crate of my stuff?"

"You – you underestimate me. Shut up!"

This time Romania stood up, fearless of another pan swing, he fixed his eyes on hers and held her gaze. "You just got out of a grave site of your people. You foolishly thought that you could outwit someone who has traveled this glorious utopia a few times. You have no idea how long you have been in that lovely, wormy pit. And you have absolutely no clue how much your people just love to eat each other in the middle of the night! Oh, and do you know what day it is? Hm?"

Hungary paled. She hated to admit he had a point. She just got out of the mess with nothing but a needle and she just climbed out of a nightmare! It was her impulsive behaviour to blame, right?

Romania held the pan pointed at him, both hands gentle, his anger faded. "Magyar, I believe this is mine." He slowly pried the frying pan from her before she blinked back emotion.

Hungary was not going to let the other Nation detect her misery. In her mind, she refueled her inner hatred for the Romanian by mentally coming up with nasty, loathing insults that would have made Prussia proud and Austria dismayed.

Romania simply picked up his sled and moved on. "I'm heading southeast," he said. "If you want to live I suggest you follow and eat my dust." And with that, the Nation started onward to his direction.

Lingering behind, Hungary turned to the crater once more. When Romania was far from ear-shot, she bent down to pick up soil and watched them fall between her fingers.

"Sleep in peace, dear children," she whispered to the dead. "Embrace His kingdom…"

Sadly she had no gravestone to formally honour them. All I have is hope, she told herself tearfully. "I will return and our country will live again, my brothers and sisters..."

Muttering in her native tongue, Hungary whispered a final prayer to them, before running after Romania disappearing in the horizon.

Writer's Ramble:

Copilule, îţi mai spun o dată (Romanian for: Child, I have already told you)

"Nu te teme de zmei," (Romanian for: Don't be afraid of the dragons in the forest) A line from a popular Romanian Lullaby "Culcă-te, puiuţ micuţ" which means "Go to Sleep my baby"

Istenem! (Hungarian for: My God!)

Serios, Ungaria?! (Romanian for: Seriously, Hungary?)

Special thanks to Marcy Queen of the Narwhals, Luna Safire, SeraSearaSpin and DarkShadowRaven, and those communities that added Retrace!

Thanks Pennilee and TearsoftheMoon!

Credits to the TUMBLRs: Romaniankingdom and Lalalatias

And for the TUMBLRs who try to keep me sane: Francofous, Roemenie and Ottomanliest

Art in TUMBLR: Saviourro