Run

02 - BANG

A gunshot snatched Soviet from his sleep. "Russia?!" He called out for the missing boy. "Russia, where are you?" After a long moment no one answered. Panic filled his chest. He fled the house and flew out the door.

Another shot rang through the air, only adding to Soviet's dismay. "Russia!" He screamed out for the werewolf. The gunman was close, he could tell from the sheer volume of the dreadful noise.

Another man slithered out of the brush, Soviet eyed him quickly, shooting down the hill and running directly into the newly arrived man. Soviet pulled him off the ground by the collar, "What the fuck did you do to my son?!"

The new man kicked his legs, "What? Your son? I have seen no boys around here! I'm just hunting, man, put me the fuck down!"

"Are you hunting Werewolves..?"

"Shit, you're such a weirdo! The hell do you need to know what I'm hunting!"

Soviet growled, "My son is not that of you feeble Humans."

"Fine, Fine! I shot one! Put me down! I'll never come back, I swear!"

Soviet felt his heart drop, the man had indeed shot a Werewolf. He harshly threw the man to the ground and glared daggers into the shorter man, "If I ever find out you've been in my property again, I'll hunt you down and make sure you never see the light of day again."

The man scrambled around and screamed, "Fuck, man! I'm gone!" The man did leave.

A wail reached Soviet's small ears, "Papa!"

"Russia?!" He called back, shoving his way through the plants and thorns. He could hear the small Werewolf choking on sobs.

Soviet spotted his son, and fell to his knees, embracing the crying boy. "Russia, I'm so sorry."

The boy's crimson blood was warm, his ears pressed flat against his head, "it-hurts! P-papa!"

"Let me see." Soviet gently examined the boy, a nasty hole with no exit sat in his arm and part of one of his ears had been torn away. Tears stained his face.Soviet gently lifted up his son. Russia wrapped his good and around his father and buried his face in the crook of the man's neck.

Soviet shoved his way through the bushes and vines, he made his way home. The tall man felt horrible. How could he let that happen? Russia's whines never faded, though they grew quieter from his exhaustion.

The tall man found a few painkillers, only giving Russia one out of fear of what too many could do to the young boy.

"Russia, I do have to take out the bullet. I promise not to hurt you further. I'm sorry." Soviet warned and apologized.

The boy nodded, "I'll be fine..."

Soviet found a rag and told Russia to bite down on it; he hoped to keep his crying to a minimum.

The pair sat at the table with a towel strewn over the top. Russia took a shaky breath, and laid his right arm in the towel. Soviet found a pair of tweezers and sat down. "Bite on the rag, okay?"

Russia nodded once again, and squeezed his eyes shut. Blood was already seeping into the towel, turning it a beautiful shade of red. Soviet swallowed his anxiety of hurting his son and reminded himself 'This is to keep him from getting an infection.'

As soon as Soviet began searching for the bullet with the tweezers, Russia inhaled sharply, a muffled cry absorbed by the rag. After a moment of growing pain Russia slammed his head on the table, his eyes were wide and his breathing was sharp and quick.

"Just another moment, I've almost got it." Soviet tried to reassure. Hot tears poured from Russia's eyes, he tried to slow his breathing. Soviet reached over for the alcohol and quickly poured some over the wound. Leaving Russia screaming out and kicking his legs.

The boy suddenly relaxed, his head thumped against the table. Soviet worried for a moment before determining he fainted from the agonizing pain. The tall man busied himself with cleaning the wound further and wrapping it.

The bullet had broken Russia's radius. Soviet created a split to hold it in place until the boy healed. Upon finding no other injuries he scooped up the boy and headed toward the sofa. He sat down spreading his body along the couch, and laid his son on his chest.

Soviet stroked the boy's snow-white hair, being mindful of his ears. "I'm so sorry, Russia. If only I had woken up earlier." He apologized to his son.

After a long silence Russia stirred. He quietly groaned and glanced around the room. An attempt to get his bearings. "Papa...?" He called, rubbing his face with his good hand.

"Ah, you're awake." Soviet carefully sat up, looking over Russia once again.

"Papa!" Russia hugged his father closely, "My ears are still ringing." He whined.

"Your ears are sensitive, and the gunshot was close, it will go away eventually."

Russia nodded, "Papa?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, don't forget it, please."

Soviet smiled, "I love you too, Russia, you never forget that either."
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856 Words a shorter chapter but the next will be a bit longer!

Sorry it's taking me forever to update my books, I've been busy

-Grey