Child!RussiaxChild!Country!Hurt!Reader:River p.1

Child!Russia x Child!Country!Hurt!Reader : A friend of my own.

Country-Reader's P.O.V.
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Your tiny feet were bleeding through your leather boots.

You hadn't taken the time to check it out and see for sure, but you had a feeling that you didn't have to.

You had spent the last day and a half running away from Prussia and his goons who had been chasing you down like a fox. You had climbed up sharp rocks and trees, crawled on poison ivy, and ran as fast as your feet could carry you for as many miles as you could before your body was aching all over.

There's only so much a pair of leather boots can take, even if they have been made by the notorious eastern European "Viking", the infamous country of (Countryname).

(Countryname) being you, the infamous personification of the war-like nation of (Countrynamians), who stood proudly between civilized Europe and the frozen wastelands that existed in the cold and mysterious north east part of Europe, where the line between the old continent and Asia became thin and almost impossible to spot.

You were very young, which would explain the reason why you had the form of a little girl.

A little girl with (h/l) (h/c) hair, striking (e/c) eyes, and a will unbent and unbreakable, a will to take on the entire world. And win.

In this time of turmoil, where empires rose and fell like castles of sand, you were determined to survive, and eventually prosper. Not wither away and die like so many other nations you had met. And how would you do that?

By becoming as strong as possible.

Which didn't turn out to be half as easy as you thought. You might have been a strong country of average size,but there was one very important thing you lacked in. And that was politics.Communicating with other countries to be precise. It wasn't like you were a xenophobe or anything, it was that learning foreign languages seemed like an impossible task for you. Not to mention that whenever a strange nation tried to introduce himself or herself to you, your shyness made you hide and pray they'd go away.

Since you were terrible in making friends, you spent most of your days alone, studying and training, and hoping that your own strength would be enough to teach that twat Prussia a lesson about invading other people's homes.

Sadly, you had been misled.

Because not only was Prussia an intolerable git,but he also happened to have plenty of friends in high places. Friends that were jealous of your independence and your economic and cultural growth. To them, you were viewed like a middle finger walking around, mocking them ,and making them fear that you could grow to be a real threat to their systems.

And they would be more than happy to hunt you down and crush you like the insolent little bug they perceived you to be.

And that was exactly what was happening.

You pushed leafy branches out of your way as you raced deeper into the forest.
Your breath had become so shallow that you thought you would pass out, and with each running step you took, you left a crimson red bloody footprint behind you.

With tears filling your eyes, you tripped over a sharp rock and found yourself falling face-first on the cold, rocky ground. That was the last straw. You rolled over on your back and began to gaze up at the sky, not a single thought crossing your mind. At those moments, you were incapable of thought. Your body and spirit had given up on you, and with Prussia after you, you were technically already dead. Or worse, a slave.

It started with a single tear. One single teardrop that slipped out your eye and trickled down your red little face. And before you knew it, you were sobbing uncontrollably, like a motherless child. You crawled up in a fetal position, hugging your knees close to your chest, like your heart was about to burst out. Your tears burnt your cheeks like liquid fire, scorching your heart with each teardrop that escaped your eyes.

"I did my best!" You cried and wiped a tear away as you felt a new round of sobs ascending from the pits of your hurt little heart. "I did my very best!" You screamed in near hysteria, frightening away a flock of birds who flew away, startled by your sudden outburst.

You have no recollection of how long you stayed there, hugging your legs in a fetal position, counting your breaths and listening to the sounds of the forest until your cries finally died out.
You were safe.
Since the racket you made when you cried your eyes out hadn't led him straight to you, there was very little chance he would ever find you.

You snapped your eyes open and sat up slowly, taking a moment to look at the trees that surrounded you. Your (e/c) eyes sparkled as the pale sunshine twinkled through the leaves, illuminating your gaze.

You took a very small breath and got back on your feet, but not before discarding your now ripped and bloody boots. They had served you well, but were now slowing you down.
You licked the tears off your lips, savoring their warm, salty taste, and as you looked around you, you realized just how thirsty you were.

But luckily for you, you could hear the sound of a small creak nearby, and with new-found courage, you made your way to the direction of the flowing water, while singing a merry tune your countrymen used to sing in taverns a lot, which is where you learnt it.

"River, Oh River, take my tears with you...
River, Oh River, bring me some ships...
River, Oh River, give me swords and shields...
River, Oh River, show me the way!...
River, Oh River, help me overcome them!..
River, Oh River, vanquish my enemies!...
River, Oh River, I give my heart to you...
River, Oh River, take it away and spare me the pain..."

You finished the first verse of the song, which was dedicated to war and conflict, and quickly moved on to the second verse, which you loved most.

"River, Oh River, show me the way home,
where my loved ones await my return,
with hot bread and sweet wine,
and loving hugs in which to hold me tight!
River, Oh River, how dearly I miss them,
River, Oh River, promise me I'll see them again!"

Your song echoed throughout the forest, travelling on the soft wings of the wind, like a sweet promise of hope everlasting, and to unbeknownst to you, it drove someone closer to you.

Russia's P.O.V.
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I had just left my sister Ukraine's house, where she had given me even more questionable advice on how I could make friends. Of course, I loved my sister, but the more she gave me such sketchy advice on friend-making, the more I began to question if she was indeed saner than our younger sibling, Belarus, who had begun to act awfully weird towards me lately.

For some reason, visiting Ukraine always left me with an inexplicable feeling of sorrow.

Because I knew that even though she tried to convince me otherwise, I knew she didn't have any friends either.

She was just as lonely as me.

But that didn't make me feel better. It made me feel like my whole family was a failure. My one sister was obsessed with marrying me, and the other couldn't make a friend to save her life. And, of course, there was me. Russia. Small, insignificant. Everyone's punching bag.

I gritted my teeth to stop the tears from escaping my eyes, but before my feelings could get the better of me, I heard something funny.

I heard a girl's voice laced with melancholy sing one of the saddest songs I had ever heard. It sounded like a song, or maybe a chant. There were so many Pagans around my house it was impossible to keep track of the faiths. Perhaps this new faith, Christianity, could help with that.

The song this mysterious girl was singing was a prayer to all the rivers, a request to take her home and keep her safe. I decided to follow that beautiful voice into the forest, because who knew? Maybe the one singing this heart-breaking song could need a friend as badly as I do.