Book 3 - Retrievers

XLIX - Blood Red

Russia smells the air for anything new, no matter how fruitless the action feels. He also keeps his magic glowing so he can keep an eye on the strange ball of static skirting around the edge of his sense. He closes his eyes and reopens them with the valve open. The magic glowing in his nose shimmers away and he stares past the leaves.

A blob of dark blue magic swirls around just inside the treeline. Russia watches it from behind the rocky wall. America's magic is closer and dull. Russia tries to ignore his worry at the dull sky blue. Then, the branches next to him begin to shift against his fur, picking and prodding him roughly enough to draw blood. Russia spins around and hisses at the blob.

Finland shuffles quickly and pulls everyone against Russia's back.

'Good. You need to hide them.'

He feels his group condense and crouch behind him. He glances back to see them laying over each other, trying to hide from outside view. America glances up at Russia with a wary but trusting look.

'I will protect you and our kids.'

The phrase still strikes Russia strangely, but he doesn't have time to give it any more thought. He resists the urge to jump to his feet when the night sky becomes visible again. Russia's whiskers catch the cold wind. Russia's fur puffs up and it gets partially pressed back by people trying to hide in it. Russia decides it's for the best.

He hisses loudly. He closes the valve and sees a heavily bundled person he could bite in half staring up at him. On the person's jacket is The Revolution symbol. Russia snarls and spits.

The person looks at him and then around him into the cave.

Russia's heart drops.

'Does he see anyone?'

Russia reaches out and slashes at the bundled person. The person jumps back with a shout. Then, the person slinks forward again.

"Why aren't you moving, bitch?" the guard, who sounds male, shouts, pointing a gun nozzle at Russia's nose.

Russia's eyes narrow, but the shapes pressing against his side keep him grounded. His tail wags in the air and his claws dig into the dirt.

"What the fuck are you-" a voice asks from around the corner.

Another guard peaks around and shrieks. Electricity runs down Russia's spine.

"Why the fuck are you fucking with that thing?"

"It's not moving!" the first barks, waving his gun at Russia's face.

"Maybe that's better for us! You've seen the shit that's been crawling out of the pit!" the second scolds, grabbing the first and marching away.

"Let me find out what's in that cave!"

"The only thing you'll find is death!"

The two march away. Russia's fur bristles at the cold wind blasting his face. Russia growls after them. Their scent carries on the wind, and Russia's eyes are trained in the direction they left in.

Once the scent fades, Russia's fur falls. His ears perk up again and he tucks his tail under his body. He feels most of the teens and a few adults disbursing around the cave, and he feels grateful for it.

His nose and ears tingle with the cold. Then, warm hands press against him. He turns and sees America pulling himself up.

Russia lowers his head to reach America's chest, and America holds the sides of his face for balance. The wind cools the space and Florida shivers against him. Mexico presses into his side.