Book 1 - Puppets

X - Where to Start

Looking up to examine the others in the dining room, Russia sees tired and bloodshot eyes from most of the people around the tables.

New York sits at the end of one of the tables. He looks exhausted, typing on his laptop and drinking coffee, and another state with a dog at his heels occasionally walks over and supplies him a new cup.

Someone is playing a card game with a few of the other states. Most of the others just sit quietly, not eating much.

After breakfast, Russia takes to pacing around the main room.

The knot in his stomach tightens as his mind fills with worse-case scenarios.

'Is he dead?'

'Where did he go?'

'Is he okay?'

Russia fidgets with his hands and is eventually pulled down onto one of the couches by Canada.

"Calm down, eh? You're going to wear a hole in the floor," Canada says with a half-smile.

Russia can only stay still for a few minutes before he gets back to his feet. So, he approaches Colorado with a few questions. Colorado has a large red 'C' with a yellow center, so Russia was more easily able to identify him out of the crowd.

Colorado is fairly short with more leg than arm strength. He struck Russia as a hiker. His hair has an undercut colored white alongside his flag, and fluffy, almost curly blue hair grows out on the top of his head. He has a kind, soft-looking face that's adorned with a worried smile.

"What weather should we be expecting?" Russia asks, his father's suggestion floating around his mind.

"Well..." Colorado says slowly, " snowfall, 'specially around the mountains, is pretty common. But, the typical fall weather around the west is mild..."

Russia nods along.

'I hope America isn't hurt.'

'Are we going to find him?'

'...or are we going to get trapped too?'

Russia swallows the lump in his throat.

Colorado stops talking.

Russia's mind snaps back to the present.

"Sorry," Russia says sheepishly.

"It's okay. I think all of us are a little distracted," Colorado says with a kind smile before he walks off to mingle with his siblings.

Russia stares up at the ceiling for a second, trying to stamp down his emotions. Then, he sits back down next to Canada. Canada gives him a hesitant smile. Russia looks away. The states continue to walk up to Russia, shaking his hand and smiling. Washington appears to be slightly taller than America, with messy hair and a service dog. Pennsylvania has a whiny voice and a spark of mischief in his eyes.

West Virginia's appearance takes Russia by surprise. The state has clearly dyed, neon green hair and large gauges in his cheeks. The image is intimidating, but the boy himself is soft-spoken and kind.

They have an early lunch, and Russia catches Dixie sticking a few extra snacks into his backpack.

With Pennsylvania in the driver's seat and Washington in the passenger seat, they ride to the airport at around noon. Pennsylvania puts on the radio and tunes it to play songs that Russia doesn't recognize. Even still, the songs are upbeat, so he can't complain.

Washington's dog sits in the back row footwell. Russia reaches out carefully to pet it when Louisiana slaps his hand away.

"That's Washington's service dog," Louisiana explains, wagging her finger, "You don't touch her, 'specially not when she's got her vest on. Wash needs her for his seizures."