November 7th || Countryhumans Alternate History of WW2 || The Soviet Republics

Only One Thing to Do || Chapter One

November 7th, 1944. 7:00am.

The children all huddled up around the dimly-lit fireplace, trying their best to protect themselves from the Siberian winter that lent no mercy.

The house was dark, empty; eerily even. Only a couple of candles lit the place. The power had gone out for a few days now. Their uncle; Siberia, promised that he'd go out to see if he could fix it.

Speaking of Siberia, the children couldn't find where he had went.

The only evidence that had alluded to Siberias sudden disappearance was the absence of his normal heavy winter coat on the usual coat hanger fixated by the front entry and a missing rifle from his gun display.

The children; quite frankly, had no idea on what to do; or what could be done, anyway.

Russia; the eldest of the children, stood up. He cleared his voice, glancing at the rest of the children who either sat on the destroyed couches or on the carpet floor.

"We've got to do something." He started, his voice cracking with great concern. The children stopped their chatting, diverting their attention to him.

They then looked amongst themselves, most of them wearily at the idea of even leaving the house.

"We can't just sit here- a-and idly wait for the hunger or the cold to get us." He continued, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to get some friction; creating warmth.

Russia clutched his stomach; it almost immediately rumbling in response as he did so. "I'm hungry, and so are the rest of you. Uncle hasn't gotten back in the last few days I fret. If we don't act now, we'll starve."

A brief moment of silence filled the room. Only occasionally a crack of the cold breeze hitting a window or one of the children's teeth clattering; interrupting the tense moment.

"Are you sure that we've ran out of canned foods? I could've sworn uncle went to the farmers market not too long ago and-" Before Estonia could continue, Russia held up his hand as a sign for her to stop.

"Don't you remember? The farmers market closed down only four days ago. I checked the cabinets I assure you. We've not a single grain of food." Russia solemnly replied. His stomach began to ache; perhaps he shouldn't have gotten up.

He was quick to fall back onto the couch; the lack of iron getting to him. When was the last time he had gotten a proper meal?

"Why would you guys mention food?" Kyrgyzstan crossed her arms together, wrapping her developing wings around herself. "I would kill to get a taste of our mothers famous Vareniki!"

The children shared a laughed at the comment. Oh how they yearned for their mother again; even if she was never the best. It was still something they cherished.

"You all are aware the fire will die out any second now. I'm with Russia here." Lithuania stood up from the carpet floor, dusting off any possible ash that could've gotten on him as he spat in the fire. 

"And what'll you suggest us to do? Us sixteen children not even above the age of fourteen to wander off into the wilderness? If hunger doesn't get us, the cold surely will. What clothing do we have to shelter us from the frost anyway?" Moldova spoke up. He was always the defiant type; looking for any small possible cracks and seeking opportunities from them. 

Russia huffed; his breath visible. 

"To be quite frank with you, I don't know. But I'd rather at least try to make a living than to rot away in this cabin." He replied. Scratching the back of his head; a habit he had developed whenever he was thinking or anxious. 

"We need to find uncle." Ukraine suggested; she was soft spoken though wise in her words. She clutched onto Belarus's hands, squeezing them. Belarus was merely a toddler; only three. It worried the children a great deal on how Belarus was growing; she was frail and was in desperate need of any sort of vitamins. 

"This barren wilderness seems to be endless, Ukri. We aren't finding uncle." Lithuania argued, his tone softening and his eyes landing on Ukraine sympathetically. It seemed like Ukraine was already growing wrinkles despite the fact she was only eleven from just how much she worried.

"I really hope he's okay.." Ukraine stared out the window that lended the children the most light. From out there she could see the flakes of snow falling onto the soft ground. It seemed it was still dark out; despite it really being seven in the morning.

"He's a smart man. He'll find his way around." Kazakhstan reassured, placing a hand on Ukraines shoulder to which she returned a smile. 

Russia rolled his eyes. He wasn't complacent no longer. He knew they needed to act now rather than waste time away. 

"Georgia," He called. Georgias eyes widened, his brows raised as he turned to look at his elder brother. 

He hummed in response. 

"Get on your coat, we need to search for uncle or an animal we could use for meat. Whatever one of the two." Russia directed, jerking his head towards the spare jacket they had hanging around.

Georgia did as told, putting on the coat and reaching into the closet located just to the side of the coat rack. He dug into it, finally finding a pair of hand gloves and stretching them on.

"How will we kill the animal? We don't have our uncles rifle." Georgia asked, looking towards the gun display in case he were missing something. 

"We don't, but-" Russia reached into the inner pockets of his buttoned-up sweater, finally finding what he was looking for. 

He pulled out a small dagger; one he had stolen from USSR before the children were sent off to Siberia.

His siblings eyes widened, some even gasping. 

"Where did you get that from?" Armenia inquired wearily.

"I took it from mother's desk drawer before she had sent us off. I figured it could come in handy." Russia shrugged. He read the room, observing that his siblings didn't look at awe; rather, in fear. 

He wanted to punch himself in the head. 

Why did he enjoy feeling like he was in charge here? Why did he enjoy seeing his siblings in fear?

He shook the feeling off. Gathering his thoughts and shoving the dagger back into the pockets of his sweater.

"Now," He nodded his head towards the door.

"Let's go." He ordered, marching out the house; the floors creaking as he exited. Georgia hesitantly followed.