Book 4 - Spring

XXXIV - Smoke

Russia's eyes trail back to the windows.

'What is that?'

He looks back toward Dixie with a frown. Dixie doesn't meet his gaze. Russia sighs and looks down.

'Will we be able to fight it?'

He swallows. He looks up. The calm breeze outside teases him.

'And win?'

Someone pokes him and Russia whips around to meet their gaze. Ukraine jumps back before laughing lightly, his hands up. Russia sighs in relief.

"You're jumpy," Ukraine teases, but his shoulders are tense.

Russia scoffs, trying to shake off the feeling in his chest. The house seems to darken, and heavy static sticks to the walls.

Manitoba looks around, a strange look on their face. Then, they disappear into the crowd of movement as people move about the room. Russia watches the group for a moment before sighing.

The magic sinks into his chest, weighing him down. He shakes his head.

'It's thick,' he notes, 'heavy.'

"Hey, Dad!" someone shouts.

Russia looks up and sees Wyoming handing America a thick sock and an attachment for his foot. America smiles, sitting in a chair brought over by Oregon, who smiles and signs something Russia couldn't understand.

"New York says that this should work for now."

"And Finland?" America asks.

"I'm getting something for her now!" Missouri shouts, waving their prosthetic arm with a determined smile, "It won't be perfect, but-"

"But something is better than nothing," Rhode Island cuts in.

"Rho! I was talking."

"Too fucking bad."

Russia chuckles. America moves and sits down next to Russia.

"So!" Ukraine says from behind his head.

Russia jumps, his hands flying. Ukraine laughs, but it sounds strained.

"What's going on?" he asks nervously, leaning over the side of the couch, "Someone is coming?"

"Yes,"

"What did you see?" Ukraine asks, poking Russia in the back of the head. Russia flinches again.

"It looked like a wall of magic," Russia says, scanning the treeline outside, gesturing vaguely, "It had smaller things inside."

"Like signatures?" Manitoba interjects.

Russia nods.

"That ain't good," Alabama says from an adjacent room, poking his head through a doorway.

"Whatchu mean, Bama?"

"That means they're probably organizin' this," Alabama adds, waving his hand.

"Do they know where we are?" Indiana asks somewhere to Russia's left. Mumbling fills the room, too low to hear.

"Russia," Massachusetts says, stepping in front of Russia, "I need you to check again."

Russia nods and closes his eyes. He opens the valve in his chest and immediately chokes.

'It feels like thick smoke.'

He scrambles to disconnect enough to focus and his eyes spring open. He can barely see Massachusetts' signature through the dark grey, felted magic filling the space. He looks around, and can't see America's blue.