~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:29◀

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3rd person pov:

The next morning, Russia awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. The previous evening’s unexpected massage from Soviet had left him feeling both physically relieved and emotionally lighter. His wings felt more pliable, the persistent tension in his muscles somewhat eased. Despite the lingering pain, the prospect of progress buoyed his spirits.

Determined to contribute, Russia got up early and headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He moved with care, mindful of his still-recovering body. His siblings were soon roused by the delicious smells wafting through the house, and one by one, they gathered around the table, their eyes wide with anticipation.

Russia served a hearty meal, earning appreciative murmurs and grateful smiles from his siblings. The warm family atmosphere gave Russia the strength he needed for the day ahead.

After breakfast, Soviet called Russia to the training grounds. The sun was high, casting a warm glow over the expansive yard. His siblings were already engaged in various activities, but today’s session was special—it was time for Russia to test his wings once more.

Soviet stood at the edge of the field, observing as Russia stretched his wings, preparing for the session. The memory of the massage still fresh in his mind, Russia felt a strange mix of nervousness and anticipation. He glanced at his father, who gave him a nod of encouragement.

"Ready?" Soviet asked, his tone firm but not unkind.

Russia nodded, taking a deep breath. He spread his wings wide, feeling the familiar stretch and slight pull of his muscles. His wings, though still tender, seemed stronger after the recent care.

Kazakhstan approached, his own yellow wings fluttering with excitement. "I’m ready to train with you, big brother!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with determination.

Russia smiled warmly at his younger brother. "Let’s do this together."

They began with basic exercises, flapping their wings to warm up and build momentum. Kazakhstan followed Russia’s lead, his movements mirroring his elder brother’s. Despite the lingering pain, Russia found himself able to move with more fluidity and less strain than before.

After several minutes of warming up, Soviet called out, "It’s time to try lifting off the ground. Take it slow and steady."

Russia nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced at Kazakhstan, who gave him an encouraging smile.

With a deep breath, Russia began to beat his wings with more force, feeling the air resistance build up beneath him. The sensation was both familiar and strange, a mix of effort and exhilaration. Slowly, he felt his feet lift off the ground, the world tilting as he rose into the air.

Kazakhstan cheered, his own wings flapping energetically. "You’re flying, Russia! You’re doing it!"

The encouragement bolstered Russia’s confidence. He focused on maintaining his balance, adjusting his wing movements to stabilize himself. Each flap of his wings sent a jolt of pain through his body, but he pushed through, determined to make the most of this moment.

For the first time in months, Russia felt the wind beneath his wings, the freedom of flight returning to him. He rose higher, the ground growing distant as he soared. The pain was still present, but the sense of achievement overshadowed it. He looked down at Soviet, who watched with a mixture of pride and concern.

Russia’s flight was not without its struggles. His muscles ached, the scars on his back reminding him of his past torment. But he pushed forward, his determination driving him to keep going. The sky seemed to open up before him, a vast expanse of possibility.