Out of the Snow

Chapter 6

*Canada's POV*

The morning light shone into the room and Canada stirred from her restful sleep. She stretched and climbed out of the bed, and peaked around the thick curtains. Snow was still falling, and blowing around, but it seemed to her that everything was letting up a bit. Good, the sooner this snow stops, the sooner I can get back... The thought both pleased her and disappointed her a little. If I leave, then Russia will stop paying attention to me, I'll become invisible to everyone again. I mean, this is the longest someone has remembered that I'm here, that I exist. But if I do leave, I'll have to promise myself not to be disappointed when he forgets about me, because that's normal. I guess I've always known I'm just not the memorable type.

Her thoughts were getting depressing, and luckily her stomach growled and she realized how hungry she was. So Canada pushed memories of loneliness away and walked over to the dresser that was nestled against one of the room's walls. Latvia had taken her to this guest room last night, since it would be odd to sleep on the couch she'd been on when Russia had brought her inside. Inside the drawers there were neat piles of clean clothes. Canada picked out a short sleeve gray dress, with red trimming along the neck and hem. It went down a little lower than her knees, but otherwise fit well. Right, next the hair....Canada thought, apprehensive about seeing the state of her blonde locks. She found a hand-held mirror and a brush tucked into the top drawer of the dresser. Unsurprisingly, her hair was all over the place, with some parts stuck to her head, and others just sticking out in odd directions. It didn't take long to untangle the mess of hair, and pull half of it up, so that it was out of her face aside from her little curl. Deeming herself mostly presentable, she left her little room and headed to the kitchen.

There was no one in the kitchen, and she hadn't heard anyone else when she had walked the hallway, so she assumed everyone was still sleeping. No matter, this works just as good, this way I can make some breakfast for everyone, as a thank you for helping me...even if Belarus hasn't really helped much, holding grudges never got anyone anywhere. Canada found the ingredients she needed, including a bottle of vodka for Russia's flapjacks. In no time, the kitchen smelled of sweet maple, and a little vodka, and Canada had crafted stacks of blueberry maple, chocolate maple, plain maple, vodka maple, and strawberry maple pancakes. She set them down on the counter, and then went on a hunt for the dishes and silverware.

Once everything was in place on the table, including the pot of coffee and the carton of orange juice she'd found, she sat herself down at one of the places and took a few of every pancake. Footsteps echoed from the kitchen, and she turned to see Russia in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen.

"Good morning!" She told him cheerfully, though still quietly.

"Morning." He replied.

"I...um...made breakfast...if you wanted some." She said.

"Oh. You did not have to. I could have had the Baltics make something. All you had to do was ask." He told her.

"Well...I mean everyone was sleeping....so I didn't want to disturb any of you." Canada blushed, and watched Russia stand there looking out-of-place, or uncertain. He was wearing his usual scarf and coat, but his coat was unbutton showing a tight-fitting gray t-shirt underneath. His poem from yesterday fluttered into her thoughts, and she remembered she wanted to talk to him about it, "Um, your poem from yesterday...thanks. I really liked it."

His eyes studied hers, "Really."

"Yes, very much so." Canada told him, and stood from her place and walked so that she stood in front of him, "Those words were beautifully written." Before he could do anything otherwise, Canada did something she would, in normal circumstance, never have done. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. He smelled of Vodka and sunflowers, Canada noted to herself.