The sky was an awe-inspiring blue, the day we came to the mountain. Once we broke free from the forest, America was the first to spot its mass in the near distance, and I remember the excitement of the find. He perked and pointed, although there had been no way for me to miss it. The mountain's length extended over all visible land and its height loomed like an omnipotent power before us.

"We'll be right up there!" America exclaimed, his finger steady on the peak. "In a few hours, we should be touching the clouds!"

My phone was already out and capturing a photo. In response though, I murmured, "It isn't so high, America..."

I don't know if he heard me or had chosen to ignore me, but he led us onward over the parched dirt and scorched grass. I hurried after him to flee the bites of the forest mosquitoes, heading directly into the untamed sunlight. My phone fell back into a khaki pocket as my head twisted around to take in all the sights. The contrast of colours stunned me, the sharp blue against green, yellow, and beige- and I wondered if it impressed America as well. He had put me in charge of taking today's pictures anyway, either out of laziness or vague interest.

We said nothing for a while. Birds were the ones to break the silence, erupting from bushes occasionally or releasing chirps on swerves past us. A rabbit once scampered on ahead and vanished, but we commented on nothing until we reached the foot of the mountain. There, we finally collapsed into the shade and our backpacks slid off our backs.

"Melting yet, Canada?" America teased.

I could see that his eyes were trained on my dripping sweat. I glanced back down to my hand undoing the zipper of my bag, then said, "It's alright. I've had it warmer."

Naturally, our packs were filled with an abundance of water bottles and protein bars. I gratefully gulped down some water as America crammed a Clif bar into his mouth. Still chewing, he laughed at my reply although I was not so sure why. I only finished off my water and ate a bit to refuel before we would soon set off again.

This was not our first time at this mountain, since it was near our joined houses on his side of the border. It was therefore no problem finding the path and powering up the steep slope. Some rocks and tree roots barred our way which needed to be hopped over, thus eventually I grew fatigued the higher we marched. But I hid it the best that I could, lest America would catch me and poke fun at me. After all, I was winded and in awe as he pushed on ahead. For someone whose diet was questionable, I was amazed that he did not seemed tired in the least.

Clouds kept themselves at a distance, so the sun only blazed over all and pried to reach our sun-screened flesh. I clung to the straps of my backpack and panted softly out my mouth while the humidity of the summer day weighted itself like a blanket upon me. There were a few trees along the way that offered the shade which I missed, but with America's swift pace, I did not get to enjoy it. My sweat sailed and splattered the cracked dirt as I forced myself onward, swallowing my huffs and puffs.

"Oh- here, here!" America yipped. He raced to a tree leaning almost horizontally over the side of the mountain, then laid himself down upon it. Too late for me to hinder him, America gazed over at me with a grin and waited for me to take a picture.

I was at least thankful for the break. Knowing that he would not move until I did as he wanted, I slowly removed my phone and aimed the camera at him. It was hard to see what was on screen in the harsh light, so I dipped the phone into my shadow to check on it. Immediately after an approval, he stood upright on the tree and hung over the drop off the path.

I hesitantly looked at him from over the phone. My heart pattered worriedly in my chest and I felt inclined to try, "Come over here, America. I think that's too dangerous…"

"Oh come on, dude- take another pic!"

"America-"

"Come oooon!"

America puffed out his chest and I silently obeyed, just to get him back on solid ground sooner. He hopped off safely then trotted on ever upward, leaving me to soon be tuckered once more. Again though, I got a break when America insisted on another picture. This time, he wanted just a photo of himself pretending to eat the bright berries of a bush along the path. I sighed and complied, disapproving strongly however when he pulled the branch into his gaping mouth. He never touched them, but already I could see the trend of the day.

"Are you going to be doing dangerous things all day?" I asked once we had returned to trudging along the path.

America slowed so that he could walk by my side.

"It's fine," he smirked. "You know I'm being careful. I do these kinds of things all the time! It's just funny, dude. I just like seeing the reactions when I post these pics. You know I love trolling Britain and getting him all worked up!"

"What about some nice pictures of you and the background?" I gently suggested. "People would like those too, and then they wouldn't think you were just being stupid..."

America let out a fake groan then smiled, "Alright then, how about here?"

He darted up ahead and set himself up standing against the blue sky. I was more relaxed over this one. Although believing that he would never ask, I inquired, "Could you take a picture of me too? I don't have any yet so I was thinking-"

"Oh, sure man! Jeez you only had to ask, Canada."

He swept my phone from my hands and I felt a warmth of happiness. I took his place and faced the camera, clasping my hands and donning a gentle expression. I heard the click then moved forward toward his compliment.

"Nice one!" America passed the phone back to me. "Here."

My phone went back into my pocket, but it would not stay there for long. Every few minutes, America always wanted to do some kind of creative stunt or just assume a nonchalant pose. Most for the internet of course, few that he would be interested in keeping. I took less pictures of myself since I did not require so many for keeping's sake, and any pictures we were both in I would only get tagged in anyway.

There was no reason to attract attention to myself. In fact, even if I had tried, I was sure that not many would notice one of "Canada's" posts. Not letting it get me down, I entertained America until we ventured out onto a jutting ledge. I slid into the shade under a scruffy tree as America jogged to the edge and assumed a power stance there. Who knows what was running through his mind, but I was convinced that he was pretending he was king of the world although we were not yet at the peak.

"Look at all that!" he laughed. "The wind's in our faces, the world flat out in front of us- it's pretty cool, isn't it?"

He did not wait for my response, which was fine when I was dumping water down my throat.

"I know we're not there yet, but the forest looks so small and far away now!"

"We've been going for hours," I replied now with a sweep of my arm over my mouth.

America backed off and opened his bag. I was surprised and rather relieved when he sat down beside me, and I thought, At last, he must be tired. America dug into his pack and took a drink, then leaned back and shared the skinny trunk of the tree with me. We rested there for many quiet minutes with our arms sticking to each other, before America rose and I knew our journey would continue.

"What d'ya think, twenty more minutes?" America hummed.

I noticed how he had slowed down to stay beside me instead of walking up ahead in front. I was impressed and delighted by the sign of kindness, glad that we were together.

"I think so," I murmured.

"Fifteen though, if we push it."

"No, we don't have to do that. We don't have to hurry…"

The path rose in a dramatic steep ascension. I suddenly remembered this part from one of our last visits, and how the first time we wondered if it was truly on the regular mountain path. We were still unsure, but climbing up and over it on all fours always gained us quick distance.

My brother and I set to it and scaled the rocky hill, slapping our hands on stone for good grip and grabbing at the occasional tree. Both of us dragged our bodies over the edge then stood to regard what we had accomplished. We dusted off our chalky shirts, then pushed back a group of trees onto what might have been a seldom-used path.

I took more pictures of the wild scenery. As my eyes and camera were focused on a little blue flower, America let out a gasp. My head popped up and I gazed at him inquisitively, meeting his shocked and excited expression.

"I just saw something!" he whisper-yelled to me. "Big and slow, just crawled off! I don't think it saw us…"

"A cougar probably," I replied. "Which probably did see us. Let's wait a bit and let it leave… Where did you see it, America?"

"Just up the path in the bushes. Went up the hill and disappeared into the trees."

I looked to my left where there was another exposed ledge sticking out over the mountain, one that mirrored the last one we visited.

"Let's wait out there for a bit to let it wander away," I said. "How about we take another break and some pictures?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

We left the overgrown path and padded over the bare rock. Here, there was also another lone tree that I took refuge under from the relentless sun. America dropped down with me again, although after he had drunk some water, he sprang right back up.

"Alright, let's get going!"

"Not yet," I objected. "Not enough time has passed…"

"Ugh, fine, fine." America hopped away from me. "Some more pictures then!"

I combed my fingers through my sweaty hair while my other hand retrieved the phone. I walked after him, distracted for a moment as I typed in the password. When I looked up however, he was standing by the edge again and looking down at the land like a pompous ruler.

"America, maybe a little closer to me…"

I hesitated with the camera again as America turned around.

"Come on, don't worry so much!" He ran back to me and quickly gave me a cuff on the arm. It had surprisingly not hurt, and when he remained close to me and smiling by my face, I ended up smiling back. I hoped he would do another brotherly thing and ruffle my hair, then listen to me of course, but he only scampered off again.

I sighed when he was back to the cliff, balancing himself onto one leg and pretending that he was going to take a step off the edge. I took only one photo so that it would be over promptly. Just after the click though was when America took his step and dropped. A yelp hurdled out my mouth but then he stopped half a metre down, his feet disappeared and his knees at the visible edge.

"Scared you, didn't I?" He shuffled around so that he could see my pale face. I quickly shook off my fright and pocketed my phone, now starting to feel annoyed with him. I marched up to America with my forehead wrinkling slightly, thinking of what I could say that he wouldn't laugh at.

A metre away from his grinning face however, we both heard a rumbling crack. America's face was immediately wiped of all amusement and he dove forward. He tripped over the edge and snatched onto my outstretched arm as the chunk of rock slid away. The grip tightened and hurt, but I hardly noticed when I stared right into the terror in his eyes, saw how he gritted teeth, and felt how he trembled.

We then heard the snaps below America's feet. I yanked back but America dropped, his chest smacking the rock and one of his hands losing its grip. My other hand snapped onto his single arm as he swung over the edge and clawed frantically to pull himself over. I pulled and gasped while he hissed fearfully, "Shit, shit! Don't let go, don't you fucking let go!"

A piece of stone chipped off and America slipped back down again. I was jerked forward, panting and staring at the shrunken landscape beyond America. It got harder to see or hear as my body became flooded with a burning white heat. Then however, came one enormous crack that sliced through everything and exploded my senses.

The overbite of the cliff crumbled away and instantly America plunged as though pulled by a line. My body shot down and once my face had gone over, my eyes spun and I panicked. I whipped myself back forcefully and there was extreme tension in my arm for a second, before it vanished. Skin zipped by under the palm of my other hand, so fast I had no time to clench and stop it. I snapped back weightless, and America's scream erupted a second later, already far below the fresh cut of the cliff.

Corrupted by shock, I raced back to the edge and hung my body over it. It cracked in warning, but I heard it not as I screamed America's name in vain. He shot downwards, arms stretched to the ground until he struck the lower ledge we had rested at before. There, I watched the dried-out corpse of a branch disappear into his abdomen and his head strike a jagged block of stone.

He lay still, his body folded over the rock slab. I was relieved for a moment; his fall had been stopped and I could reach him. What had just occurred did not faze me as much as it would since I was so excited that he had been caught on the way down. I began to move away to race after him, but just as I peeled my chest off the ground, I saw his body slowly slip to the side.

He did not make a sound as he fell into the void. Completely helpless to stop it, relentless screeches poured out from me and my arms flailed over the edge. My hands grasped at the body growing smaller, until it dropped out of sight and crashed through the trees below. By then I froze, mouth gaping and eyes popping at tranquil scenery that had consumed him.

Three choked clucks from my throat, then everything became so silent for a moment. That is, until I remembered how to move. Our bags were forgotten as I shot for the path and my screams tore the air. I even lost control of them and they came relentlessly, my head snapping around to each one. I kept forgetting to breathe as I ate up the dirt path and bolted down the mountain.

I leapt straight over the steep incline and squirmed in the air until I slammed into the ground. Fresh and bleeding scrapes burned and my bones throbbed, but I rolled and charged on ahead. Every step, my crooked hands clawed the air and my teeth gnashed after each agonized scream. No thoughts could even enter my mind as I sprinted and fell down the path.

I couldn't even think of how stupid he had been.

"America! Ameeeriicaaa!"

My cries rang out so high from the mountain. He would never have heard me even if he could have, for so painfully far was I from the bottom. Never had anything taken so long to do. Each second away from America tore at me, each second without knowing his fate tortured me as my mind became filled with flashes of bloody images.

"America!"

All I could say.

America!

All I could think and see.

Half an hour. It took me half an hour to find my brother at the bottom of the mountain and within a strip of trees. And there was no denying it even for my sanity, that he had survived the fall.

America was undisputedly long-dead. His body was spread over the ground, arms outstretched but legs crossed in a broken jumble. I stared, unable to break my gaze away from the gruesome mess that he had become upon the forest floor. I had not even known so much blood was in the human body. But there it was, drained over the topsoil around his spiked remains.

Based upon the broken canopy, I knew that branches had caught him on his descent with their sharp fingers. They had snapped and left their chipped bark and long rods jutting out in various locations. There were as well long needles impaled in him, the needles of a neighboring honey locust tree which America must have crashed through.

I only wished that this had been all, then at least he would have appeared alive. A low branch however, seemed to have slit open his stomach, and now his innards had been lifted from his body. They draped like a dark curtain from the branch to him, the connective tissue torn and intestines in a severed tangle.

"America…"

Slowly, I approached him with an otherworldly feeling. A dream, this had to be. I held onto his face and turned it, the tears spilling down my face as blood seeped out America's lips. My eyes gazed into his but they were so dull. There was not an ounce of life left in them.

I had no idea when it had happened, if I had witnessed it on the slab, if he had died in the open air, or if the final tears of the trees had done it. There was no way for me to know either, if he had stayed alive for a time as I was climbing down the mountain. He might have suffered for minutes, immobile and crying until he died alone and without comfort. I could not distinguish any tears when there was so much blood on his face.

And I wondered what I could do. My hands hovered over him but there was nowhere I could put them to use. Finally, I snapped away and screeched, clawing my fingernails into my face. My feet fell heavily until I careened and collapsed, sobbing into a tree trunk with my back to my brother. Soon I panicked when I could not breathe, when my lungs convulsed and refused to expand. Now I could not even scream as I suffocated.

Help him, help…

But no one could help. I curled and gasped inwards a horrible, rasping breath as I thought, There's nothing that can be done. He can't be saved, he's dead, he's dead…

Suddenly I was aware of the weight in my pocket. My phone. I still had my phone. I crammed in my fingers after it and yanked it out, desperately failing to set in the password a few times before I succeeded.

I need to tell someone. I need to tell them…!

I attacked the phone for my contacts then frantically pressed at a name near the top of the list. I then slammed the phone against my head, my arm crossed over to press it against the opposite ear. My left arm was squeezing my core and I hugged myself so painfully tight. A poor attempt to comfort and contain myself.

After a few rings directly into my ear, he answered.

"Hello, Canada," Britain began. "What-"

"Britain!" I squeaked. "Oh my god, Britain…"

Then my lungs spasmed again and I choked on my words. I fought to spit them out as Britain leapt into panic and demanded, "Canada? What happened? Canada!"

"America-i-is-d-dead…"

"What? America-"

I squeezed myself ever tighter. "H-he's dead…" I coughed.

I heard the alarm in Britain's voice and grew terrified to hear it. More and more was it all becoming a reality.

"What are you talking about?" Britain gasped. "What happened?"

I spluttered, "The c-cliff we w-were… he fell… I tried to pull h-h-him…"

"Canada, calm down." Britain's voice grew steadier. "Please, it's alright. He cannot be dead."

"But he's dead!" I shrieked. "You can't see it, but I told you! He's dead, dead, dead… It's everywhere!"

"Listen," he murmured, voice even quieter and gentler. "It will be okay. We cannot die, Canada. Not when our countries are functioning. This can be fixed, I promise you this."

Dumbfounded, I went silent and listened.

"Canada," he repeated, gaining my focus. "He cannot die. No matter what you see right now, trust me. He is not dead."

"He isn't breathing," I whispered. "His organs…"

"It does not matter. He cannot die."

My body slowly revolved so that I was staring at America's corpse once again. Britain's words echoed through my mind as I observed his still form which flies were already landing upon. A chill ran down my spine as I focused on their greasy, black bodies.

I said, "I don't understand… How can he heal from this?"

"It will be alright," Britain whispered. "Trust me."

"Britain, I don't-"

"Am I the first one you called?"

I nodded. "Y-yes…"

Britain sighed, "Good… You were right to call me. Now don't tell anyone else. We better not start panic over this..."

The buzzing of wings past my ear threw me into desperation. I ran over to America and frantically swatted the flies away from him. I then plopped down and continued to protect him, waving constantly over the blood.

"So he's alive?" My voice lifted and my dizziness began to fade. "He isn't really dead?"

But when my hand fell upon his neck, I felt no pulse. I was launched back into a panic and Britain heard my gasp. Swiftly he cried, "He is fine, Canada! Listen, I need you to pull yourself together. Don't you want to help him?"

I was quiet once more.

"I need you to help him since I'm not there to do it. So… Just… you're going to have to do one thing. Put him back together. The best that you can."

"Al-alright..." I whimpered.

"Start now, while I tell you more. You need to know this as soon as possible."

I was already standing and trying to untangle his guts from the branch while keeping the phone pinned between my shoulder and my ear.

"What?" I asked.

"Very soon, Canada," Britain began. "America will start to move again. Sew him up and clean him, then leave him locked up for a while. With the amount of damage he has taken, he will not heal correctly on his own. So I need to make a potion of regeneration that will regrow what is lost and set all the broken pieces back together and in the right place. Trust me on this. I can save him."

"Why are you so calm?" I mewled. "How can you be so calm?"

"I know what to do," he answered. "I've done this before to another nation a long time ago... It will be alright and he will return to his absolute normal self with memories up to the incident. Okay? Everything will be fine."

"H-how long…" My throat seized up again and I failed to ask the question.

"How long will it take to fix him?" Britain responded. "As long as it takes to track down the ingredients and prepare them. Unfortunately, the potion requires some rare items and it might take me months… like the last time. Bloody hell, I wish I could have had extra of this stuff for a time like this."

"Months!" I cried. "Months, like this?"

"Canada, Canada… You have to help me out a lot. I need you to be strong, alright? Now it is you who has to deal with it."

The guts dropped from the branch, slipping from my hands and striking America with a wet slap. I gawked at my scarlet hands as more and more, what Britain was saying became clear to me. "It? What it?" I stammered. "What is this, Britain? What on earth is happening?"

"He is not dead," Britain murmured. "But he will rot to a point. It will stop as his body fights to heal, and you need to not be scared. Just keep him chained up and locked away. You have to do this. Because eventually, he will attack you or any nation he can get to."

My eyes flew open and I shuffled away from America.

"Canada, do not let him free!" Britain barked now to frighten me into obedience. "He will try to rip out the pieces he is missing and put them into himself. His body will go to extreme lengths to repair itself, even though it will never succeed. Without my potion, I mean. Canada, he will get stronger! And stronger... The more desperate he gets... and I do not know how strong America will become because he is already powerful to begin with. So chains, not rope. Buy chains."

My head jerked side-to-side as my face scrunched up. The phone dropped and I stared at it for a moment, quivering violently until I retrieved it. When it was back against my face, sticky and wet, I whined, "Britain, help me, I can't do this. Oh god I'm so scared- I can't, I can't, I-"

"You must. I will be here for you, I will come over often for you, but only you can cover his disappearance. You'll... have to become America so that no one knows what happened."

"But they have to know!"

"This can't leak out," Britain muttered. "There are some nations that would take advantage of his weakness and attack the country while they can. You have to step in and pretend to be your brother. Your faces are similar, though your hair could be trimmed, contacts needed, and of course- you must act like him and talk like him."

"While he is locked up in the basement!" I wailed. "Rotting, becoming- a zombie? A zombie!"

"Not a zombie…" Britain murmured. "He is not dead."

"This is undead," I barely breathed out, backing further away from America although the flies had started to settle again. "Like a movie. Dead, moving… attacking us."

"He is not undead. He's alive without a heartbeat... his body trying to heal back to what it was," Britain sighed. "Dying but not dead, a condition that I think as a constant death."

"You know this because it happened before…" I whispered. "Who? What happened…?"

"When this happened before, my friend… he had been burned to a crisp. When I went to bury him though, he started to move. Little more than a skeleton he was, but I thought I could save him. I kept him at home for a while but found out soon that he was not really alive."

"Oh god…"

"He was healing though, improving somewhat. I was asleep however, on the night that he could walk again. And he walked up to me, and somehow that brittle skeleton had the strength to tear off some skin off my arm. Some ropes solved my problems, and kept him from hurting anyone anymore until I completed the cure and applied it."

"He will become dangerous though…" I breathed. "He won't know what he is doing..."

"Lock him away and I will hurry to save him," Britain told me. "Don't be afraid of what he looks like. It's your brother America, and he is unwell. Do what you can to protect him. Be him, just for a little while."

"But you know how he is- I'm not like him! I can't be so loud, so reckless, so- so American!"

"I know you can do it with some motivation. Now come on, Canada. Worry about that later. Put him together for now and stitch him back up. Wash him and give him some clean clothes, then go buy some chains. You have enough time. It will still be a while before he becomes a threat."

"O-okay…." I choked and glanced back to his crumpled form. "I… I'll do it."

"I've told you all I know," Britain said. "I'll leave you to it. Call me once you've taken care of everything, alright?"

"Alright…"

My eyes did not leave the body.

"Everything will be fine," he repeated. "This has happened before, I promise. I know what needs to be done… I will save him."

"I believe you…"

"Good luck, Canada."

He hung up before I could serve up another frightened question. Shakily, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and stepped toward America. He still did not breathe, still did not blink… he made no movement at all thus it was difficult to believe that he ever would. That he even could move and cause the amount of damage Britain had described.

"A zombie…" I murmured to myself. "But it will be okay… Britain said nothing about him being infectious. He will be creepy, but not a problem."

I grasped onto a needle and pulled. Caught up in muscle, it was dragged out so slowly. It popped out into the open air and I took a moment to examine the sharp point queasily.

"The hardest part will probably just be trying to act like him," I whispered to ease my jittery nerves. "That's all. And when this is all over and everything is back to normal, he'll probably find this so cool. Funny too, that I tried to act American. But mostly cool, that he was undead for a short period of time…"