Book 3 - Retrievers

XLVI - Terror

America pulls away from Finland, and the blue glow dissipates. Russia smiles tightly. His lower legs tingle with pins and needles. Horror fills his mind. His grey fur raises anger and fear. Russia tries his best to keep his emotions off his face.

He knows if he looks panicked, the kids will follow suit, and he knows that he can't handle another one of them getting upset right now.

Russia snarls a little and kicks. His shoes push against the tops of his feet. His pants squeeze his legs and bend uncomfortably around his knees. He grabs at his hair and pulls on it. His lower legs start to shorten.

Soon, his heels begin to shove against the rubber of his boots.

'This just keeps getting worse.'

"Thank you," Finland says, rubbing the nub and moving to sit toward the middle of the group.

'At least she's okay.'

Russia pulls at his sleeves, but they don't fit quite right. They didn't before, but now with the fur, he can only cover less than half of his forearms. He stares at the ground and tries to pull at the sleeves to reach his wrists. His tail, arms, and now parts of his legs puff up with his irritation, which does nothing to help.

His eyes burn with frustration. He yanks on the sleeves.

They don't budge.

Anger accompanies his suffocating shame and fear. His fingers tense and his claws extend. He pulls his hands away from his jacket to keep from ripping the fabric any more than it already had been.

He digs his claws into the ground and scowls, trying to keep his rising terror from showing on his face. He kicks off his shoes, and is horrified to find his feet changing too. His feet themselves lengthen and everything visible under his pants is grey. His mind swirls with panic.

'No no nonononononono.'

'Will I ever look normal again? It never went this far before.'

A hand finds it's way into his hair, and Russia absentmindedly leans into it, wanting any distraction from the horror that his own body supplies him. America starts massaging his ears, and Russia leans over as far as he can. The burning behind his eyes fades a little, but he knows if he focuses on it, he may just start crying. Fear causes him to shiver. His heart pounds in his chest, and the fur on his legs and arms puffs up further.

It fills uncomfortably into his clothes.

'I don't know what's happening. I can't even fix it. And it keeps getting so much worse.'

He swallows back the panic and leans into America's hands.

'Warm.'

Russia tries to tuck his face into America's chest but loses his balance. He falls over into America's lap. He is surrounded by America's scent.

'It smells stronger than usual. But it smells nice. It's okay,' Russia tries to convince himself.

America scratches the top of his head and pets back his ears. Russia's body is filled with the buzz of warm comfort that almost drowns out the sheer terror on the edge of his mind. He starts purring to try and calm himself down. He manages to calm his breathing a little and opens his eyes.

He meets North Dakota's gaze, and she offers a bright, but mischievous smile. Then, she pulls out a digital camera and snaps a picture. Russia's face grows hot. He offers his best imitation of a playful scowl, shoving his other emotions down. She just grins back.

"You calming down now, Ruby?"

Russia doesn't respond. He knows if he opens his mouth, he risks bawling.