Book 4 - Spring

XVII - Whistling

'I shouldn't be getting mad at him,' he mentally scolds himself, 'he's hurt. That's probably why he's doing this.'

"Come here," Russia says calmly, his arms open.

"What are you gonna do? Carry me?" America snarks.

"Exactly. Now, come here."

America sputters, his face turning dark red. Even still, he stumbles to Russia, almost falling into him. One of the teens takes America's bag and Russia gathers America in his arms, holding him to his chest.

"Is there anyone else that wants to be carried?" Russia asks, looking around.

Every state present raises their hands, laughing. Alberta is quick to join the fun, smirking. Russia rolls his eyes with a laugh.

"Anyone with an injury?" Russia corrects.

The hands fall. Russia gives North Carolina a curious look. She smiles.

"Thanks, Russ, but I'm okay. I'll let you know if that changes."

Russia nods. He takes a few steps, littering America's face with small kisses. America giggles, playfully pushing him away. Russia smiles, ignoring the stare burrowing into the back of his skull.

Russia shuffles, pulling America onto his back. America squirms, but he doesn't try to get down. Once America is settled, Russia grabs his legs and starts walking. America tucks his face into the back of Russia's neck.

"We need to stay away from the road," Russia instructs, "we don't want to be seen."

"You got it, Cat Dad," Texas says with a self-assured nod.

Russia looks away, feeling flustered.

Russia adjusts and jumps a little, pushing America up further onto his back. America sighs into his neck and Russia shivers. Russia ignores the warmth gathering in his stomach, taking a deep breath and shaking his head.

'That's going to have to wait.'

Russia sighs slowly and takes a few steps forward, finding his footing with America's weight. It isn't much, but he does find that it throws off his balance a little. He turns his head and smells the air. It smells like iron, almost intoxicating.

'Where is that coming from?'

Russia looks America over the best he can and his heart sinks. Blood sluggishly drips from America's foot, leaving a dark red trail.

'I hope nothing follows that.'

It takes a little more walking before America is able to call Dixie to coordinate a meeting place.

"Hello?"

The worried tone in America's voice grows tenfold as soon as Russia hears a noise in response.

"Dixie? You don't sound so good."

America pauses and then hums disbelievingly.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

America squirms a little, adjusting his arms. Russia relaxes a little to allow it.

"Okay. A rest stop? What's the nearest mile marker?"

"Okay. We'll try to find that. We're heading southbound," America says.

America says more, but Russia's attention is suddenly brought to the unfamiliar smell of things hidden in the darkness. Russia's ears flatten to his head and his tail puffs up, swaying violently behind him. Florida releases it, and Russia growls in the direction of the scent. He hisses, and his back hunches.