Where Winter Meets Summer (Rusame Countryhumans)

Herald from the Grave: FOUR

"D-oon't-k- come a-a-ny closer-rr..."

The sound of their voice turned my molten blood into ice in an instant as I shuddered at the horrible sound. Though it was extremely mutilated and barely audible, as if they were speaking for the first time in centuries, I thought I recognized the voice from somewhere. I stopped in my tracks as they painfully lifted their hand to gesture for me to stop but it wasn't a threat. It was a warning about the ashes that had yet to settle.

When it did, I cautiously leapt over and knelt down to examine the person. The burning cloak tore away at the seams with ease, revealing just how much damage I had inflicted. Instead of flesh and bone, I was surprised to find a metallic humanoid puppet of a boy around my age. Half of his torso had been caved in, revealing the thin wire frame that held him together. The iron casing itself was a mangled, burnt mess and half of his face was already completely melted off. But despite this, I immediately recognized him as a former classmate.

I stumbled back in horror as my brain struggled to process what I was seeing. There was no way this was real.

"W-What happened to you?!" I croaked as disgust choked my mind, "I thought you were supposed to be dead!"

He lowered his head in sorrow as he replied with difficulty, "I ...d-did too. Bu-u t that-t- woul d be too good a fate, huh."

(NOBODY POV, a little while ago)

Russia was holding his own against the massive army of the metallic undead but sooner or later, he knew he would run out of steam. As one shattered before him, at least five more would take their place. The wooded area was already coated in a shining layer of frost and snow, rewinding the area from the end of February to the dead of December.
The shredding numbness had taken hold of him ages ago. He no longer felt any of the cuts, bruises and gashes he had sustained. Time froze still and he fought on like a corpse. No pain, no end.

"WHAT IS HE DOING?!" Canada shouted over the screeching metal as he glanced over just in time to watch the mob stab at him, only to be crushed under massive waves of sleet and snow. Russia continued on without a care.

Germany brandished a thick, iron chain and pulled, grouping up a chunk out of the crowd and squeezed them until they broke into pieces.

"You have to go over there and help him. I'll hold them down for now," Germany instructed, "He'll get himself killed in this state!"

With a wave of smoke and one of Germany's hounds by his side, he ran towards the center of the blizzard and into the clasps of a ruthless winter. Though the biting winds were painful and stinging, Canada pressed on, kicking away iron zombies as he went.

"RUSSIA!" he screamed over the howling winds, "YOU HAVE TO STOP!"

"Why? I can still fight!" he responded before hurling a spear of ice through a cluster, knocking the zombies off like bowling pins. As soon as the spear struck the ground, it shattered, sending smaller shards cascading over the field like a hail of freezing bullets. Canada dove headfirst into a nearby snowbank to dodge the deadly barrage.

"No, you can't!" he urged with a tinge of irritation, "Look at yourself, you're covered in cuts and bruises!"

"Oh piss off, I'm fine," Russia retorted, exasperated, as Canada clambered towards him. With a hearty slap on the back, a jolt of energy and agony raced through the Russian's body.

"OW!!! Hey, watch yourself!" he growled before sweeping his hand through the air. The ground responded as dozens of ice pillars pounded a couple unlucky zombies into oblivion. As he kept them at bay, Canada worked quickly, supplying energy and patching Russia up as a battlefield medic, all the while grumbling something about dare-devil maniacs.