Russia takes a step, only to stumble to the ground. He face-plants into the rocks with a huff. He hears America scrambling beside him.
"Ruby?!"
"I'm fine," Russia insists, rubbing his head.
"Don't hurt yourself, Cat Dad," Kansas says.
"What happened?" North Carolina asks.
"I'm not used to walking like this," Russia admits.
Ukraine laughs disbelievingly. Russia scowls at the ground. He struggles back to his feet and sways, trying desperately to find his balance. He ends up on the ground once again, and he bares his teeth out of frustration.
"So you can run, but not walk?" Finland teases.
"It's hard to balance," Russia hisses defensively, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks.
America offers a hand, and Russia takes it. Russia smiles, looking over to America. America still seems unsteady on his feet, so Russia decides not to use him for balance. He uses his free hand to pull himself up with a nearby tree.
Russia holds America's hand gently, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
'Your hand is so small,' Russia thinks, internally cooing.
America leans against Russia's side, and Russia props an arm on America's shoulder. America stumbles, and Russia tries to ignore the now near-constant smell of blood and the blue glow emanating from America's unfinished shoe, the improvised prosthetic still visible under the ripped fabric.
He looks down at his own legs as he relents, allowing his knees to bend underneath him.
'I need to figure this out sooner than later.'
He takes a few experimental steps forward. He rises higher onto his toes to stand more comfortably and notes that America seems just a little shorter than he had before.
'Am I taller?'
'If I am, it can't be by much.'
'My legs feel weird.'
Looking down, he notes that his knees seem to sit differently. They bend at almost right angles, and he finds himself needing to walk on his toes to balance.
Russia takes a few steps, and America giggles. Russia's cheeks grow warm.
"Dad, you know any roadways 'round here?" Mississippi asks, standing.
America hums, waving his arm to summon his map. Russia watches the transparent blue sheet with an enamored smile.
'His magic is so pretty.'
America traces the roads, zooming into the east side like it's on a digital display. He moves his finger down the mountains. Then, America hums loudly before waving his hand through the projection. It dissolves beneath his fingers, fading to sparks that fall like sparkles from a firework.
America turns in what looks like a random direction and takes a step forward.
"We should head this way," America says, pointing, "but we should stay away from the road. We don't want anybody seeing Rue."
"Should we message Dix?" Texas asks nervously.
"We'll call him once we have cell service."
"Why not now?" Alabama questions, "you've got magic."
"Well, I would rather your uncle not crash the car."
So, they start walking.
The trees start to pass by quickly and Russia tunes out the conversations around him. His ears stay perked up in case anything happens, though he isn't sure if his ears would be able to pick up much. Russia finds that walking upright, though still strange, is possible.
Ukraine awkwardly walks just behind Russia, fidgeting with his hands and staring into the shadows around the trees.
"Don't do that," Russia comments.
"What?" Ukraine asks, his voice high, "don't do what?"
"Looking at the dark like that. You will start to see things that aren't there."
"But what if-"
"If something wanted to attack us, it would've already. Just stay together and don't look for things you don't want to find," America interjects.
Florida is quick to reattach himself to Russia's tail. Russia smiles lightly.
They cross over a few boulders, and Texas climbs atop the tallest, cheering. Mississippi sneaks up behind him, peeking over the edge with a smirk. Before anyone could comment, Mississippi tackles him off. Texas yelps and Mississippi drops him to the mossy ground below.
Mississippi backs up to the top and cheers. Alabama claps from the ground below.
"I'm King of the world!" Mississippi cackles.
"Me too!" Florida cheers, climbing onto Mississippi's shoulder.
"More like King of a stupid rock!" Alberta shouts, yelling over Florida.
"Hey!" Mississippi complains, leaning over to accommodate a laughing Florida, "We are still Kings."
"That ain't fair!" Texas whines playfully from the ground, pushing himself up, "you gone and pushed me off."
"Come on boys," America calls with an exasperated smile, "we have to keep going."
"Yeah, come on!" North Carolina calls from the base of the stone tower, glaring at South Carolina.
America waves them forward and Russia smiles. In his periphery, he spots South Carolina sheepishly hopping.
'...cute.'
They continue walking when Texas starts to get flighty.
"Tex, you good?" Alabama calls.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Texas says in what Russia assumes was supposed to be a reassuring tone.
"Tex?" New Mexico calls.
Russia turns toward her out of curiosity.
"(Water?)" New Mexico signs.
Texas gives a curt nod, his eyes wide with worry.
"(What?)" Russia signs toward New Mexico, "(What's wrong?)"
New Mexico gives him a weird look before realization dawns on her face.
"(We are approaching ______ water,)" New Mexico explains, "(And Texas is getting nervous.)"
Russia's gaze returns to Texas. Texas looks away nervously.
"(Are you okay?)" Russia signs, concerned.
Texas nods. Russia gives a nod of acknowledgment before turning back to watch his feet. They continue walking, and America leans into Russia's side. Russia smiles and butterflies flutter in his stomach.
Soon, the sound of rushing water becomes audible. Russia glances at Texas and sees that he has begun shaking. Texas hugs his coat close to his chest. Russia squeezes America's hand trying to catch his eye. America looks up, curious. Russia gestures to Texas with a worried look.
America follows his gaze.
"Tiktac? Are you okay?" America asks, releasing Russia's hand.
Texas hums, pulling on his sleeves.
"Kiddo?"
Texas grumbles and tilts his head toward his chest, hiding his face under the brim of his hat.
America stops walking and Texas stumbles over him.
"Woah!" America exclaims playfully, pushing him back
Texas doesn't respond. Instead, he stops in his tracks. Texas rubs the back of his neck and fidgets with the edge of his hat.
America sighs.
"Taz."
Texas looks up sheepishly.
"I'm here, okay?"
Texas jerks his head in a nod.
They continue walking, and Russia watches Texas, concern growing in his chest. Texas shivers, biting his lip.
The smell of water saturates the air, and Russia's ears swivel forward. He stares ahead, trying to find the source of the mist. Texas walks slowly, falling behind the rest of the group. Brazil shoves him forward, worry and stress creasing her face.
'I can't see anything, but the water smells close.'
Texas runs to America's side and stops. America halts in his steps and turns with a confused look.
"Taz?"
Texas doesn't respond.
America is about to take another step forward when Texas' hand shoots out from his side toward him. America looks at it for a second, and Russia can't help but notice the shaking.
America's face falls to a soft smile and he gently takes Texas' hand. Texas doesn't say anything, but his shoulders start to tremble. America rubs the back of Texas' hand with his thumb.
America starts walking again and Texas trails behind him. Russia takes a few long steps to walk by them.
Then, his foot slips.
Russia scrambles back, trying not to trip over Florida. Florida squeaks and Russia manages to find his balance before accidentally crushing the teen. Russia leans over, his arms out, and sighs. He gathers his wits about him and looks down at the wet stones that had taken his balance. They seemed grey with wear to their surfaces.
'Are we following a trail?'
Russia shakes off the question.
'We might be. Regardless, Beam knows where he's going.'
Russia looks up from the stones and looks beyond them. Just behind the rocky exterior is a wide stream of water: white froth bubbles up around the dykes of sentiment embedded into the sides of the riverbed.
Texas almost seems to be trying to hide behind America, which would have been funny if not for the expression on his face. It's one of pure, unadulterated terror. Texas clings to America's hand like a lifeline, staring blankly at the current.
"Take off your boots and walk across," Ohio instructs from the ground, pulling off his boots and socks, "it isn't very deep and you won't be in it for long, so don't be a pussy. Besides, only a dumbass would walk around in this cold in wet boots, so unless you want to arrive home with a few less toes, take 'em off."
"We can set up a camp on the other side to dry off," South Dakota offers, "we can dry ourselves off pretty quickly, but I wouldn't trust the 'waterproof' qualities of our shoes, especially because it looks like the water would go above the lip anyway."
Texas shakes his boots off and rolls up his pant legs. He takes America's hand in a white-knuckled grip and hugs his shoes to his chest. Russia takes a breath.
'This is going to be cold.'
Russia steps carefully onto the rocks at the edge, his face catching some of the water's spray. He is about to step down to the water's edge when Florida climbs up his back, leveraging his weight on Russia's shoulders. Russia jolts in surprise before sighing with a smile.
Russia grabs Florida's feet and hoists him up. Florida wraps his arms around Russia's forehead, flicking his ears. Russia hums and treks to the middle of the stream. His legs are engulfed by the cold; his fur soaks up the water. The grey moves with the current as the waters rush around his legs.
"It isn't very fast," Russia comments over his shoulder, "plant your feet and you will be fine."
Russia lets Florida go, and Florida clings to him like a gecko. Russia smiles briefly before offering a hand to North Carolina, helping her across to the other shore. Russia digs his back paws into the mud a little deeper to steady his balance, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his fur being pulled by the current. He walks most of the teens to the other side, though Kansas denies his help.
New Mexico takes his hand, staring nervously at the flow enveloping her ankles. Russia steps forward and she slips. Russia swoops down and grabs her under the arms. He manages to hoist her up before she falls into the freezing streams.
"Woah!" Florida shrieks.
"Are you okay?" Russia asks, holding New Mexico at arm's length
New Mexico sighs, her shoulders slumping.
"I will be," she says, "could you get me to the other side?"
Russia nods. New Mexico squirms to face forward and Russia pulls her to his chest in a tight hug. She brings her knees to her chest and Russia carries her across. Before Russia can put her down, Florida reaches in front of Russia's head and pats New Mexico's hair.
"Pat pat," Florida says to himself, almost in a comforting manner.
New Mexico huffs as Russia helps her step down. She kicks her legs out and plants them onto the rocks.
She hisses and dances around, mumbling something that looks like the word 'cold' and several curses.
"Thanks, swamp puppy," New Mexico says over her shoulder, offering a smile.
"You're welcome!" Florida chirps with a wave.
Texas and America are the last ones to step into the water. America stumbles, and Texas yanks him back up, nearly pulling his father's arm out of socket. America winces but doesn't seem to comment.
Russia walks forward to help them across and he could see the panic in Texas' eyes. Texas' gaze swivels around the riverbank, occasionally focusing on his siblings already planted on the other side, who are trying to dry off their feet with brittle foliage. Russia takes long strides and takes America's other hand. America looks up with a loving smile.
America's gaze returns to his children, and together, they wade through. America steps up and his feet glow brightly. Texas releases America's hand and takes to hugging himself. America shakes his hand, and it too begins to glow blue.
Under the magic, Russia spots the rapid progression of finger-shaped bruises as they speed through healing. Russia flinches.
'We can't be far now,' Russia reassures himself, 'I want to go home.'