Russia shivered. It was the beginning of winter, and the General was off to a strong start. The snow was already blanketed thick on the ground and fresh snow was falling from the clouds. The frigid wind was beginning to howl. And it was only 5 o'clock.

Normally, Russia would not be up this early, but England was coming over to discuss trade between their countries.

'Lovely day for a meeting…' Russia thought scornfully, glaring outside the window. "You could be a little calmer, da? I have company coming over soon!" he shouted at General Winter, knowing full well that Winter was probably elsewhere and couldn't hear him. Even if he did hear him, would laugh and make the blizzard worse.

Grumbling, Russia made his breakfast. He was in for a long day.


Later, the blizzard had calmed down enough for England's flight to land. It was arranged that they would meet in a café or a restaurant in Moscow, but England had to get there on his own.

He was very tired. What was supposed to be only a 4 hour flight had been lengthened painfully into close to 6 hours due to delays and bad weather. He was not in the best of moods.

As he wandered through Moscow, trying to get his cell phone to work so he could find out from Russia where they were meeting, he felt a significant drop in the temperature behind them, along with a sudden blast of cold air. England shrugged it off as nothing. He was used to oddities like this, anyway...

Even if the footsteps behind him seemingly belonged to no one.

England was far too agitated to be frightened. The footsteps had gotten on England's last, very frayed nerve. In a fit of anger, England whirled around and yelled a curse at his follower, one arm fully extended.

There was a blinding flash of light. Snow went everywhere, whirling all over England and unfortunate on-lookers. When the snow settled, England heard a confused mewl and the sound of much smaller feet scampering away. He looked around. People were giving him very confused and startled looks. He stood there, arm still extended, wondering how the heck he was going to explain this to them.

"Ah, I, uh…" He stammered. In pure confusion, England's brain shut down. He had forgotten every lick of Russian he knew- and every language for that matter- leaving England with nothing to work with and forcing him to stand there babbling like an idiot.

A few people just gave small nods and walked away while the rest continued to stare at England, completely dumbfounded.

England's cell phone went off. He gave it a quick glance and ran off in the direction of the tiny restaurant Russia had decided on. He didn't want to stay there any longer than he needed to.


Many thoughts raced through General Winter's mind. Never before had someone dared to attack him so. He was a force of nature. He was powerful, unforgiving. He had a reputation of being incredibly cruel and unfeeling. The only thing he felt now was the inability of his brain to slow down enough for him to have a coherent thought.

Russia had requested that General Winter find England and tell him where to meet him as his cell phone refused to send the message. Winter had tried and failed several times to get the Brit's attention, when, out of nowhere, England and yelled something at him.

Then the flash of light, and the feeling of shrinking… and falling into the snow…

'What happened…?' the dazed Season wondered.

Regardless, he needed to find Russia. He had lost what little trust he had of England.


The snow was falling again by the time Russia and England got to the large house. They both were exhausted now, and hadn't reached an agreement yet. They would have to wake up early and try to reach some sort of decision before tomorrow afternoon, when England's flight home left.

Russia had set up a room for England to stay in earlier that day so that he didn't have to do so later, for which he was thankful. He didn't want to have to make it now and England was way too tired for Russia to want to deal with him. The two sleep deprived nations bid each other good night and England closed the door to his room.

'I wonder what happened to my stalker…' he wondered as he changed into pajamas and fell asleep.

Russia, however, hadn't yet gone to bed. He was downstairs, turning off lights. He only had a few lamps in his living room to turn off before he was free to sleep. So close to the wonderful thing that is sleep… So close to freedom… But he had to turn the dang lights off.

Russia sighed. When had he even turned these on? He couldn't remember anymore. He had been so tired these past few days.

A scratching noise was heard. Russia stopped, confused. The night was silent again. Then, as Russia started moving again, the scratching started up, barely audible.

Russia swiveled his head around, trying to locate the source.

Scritch scritch scritch.

It sounded like it was coming from the front door.

Russia walked up to the door and slowly reached for the door knob. He was reluctant to open the door because it was winter and it was absolutely freezing what if someone was dying and needed help?

Russia opened the door. He was not expecting what he saw.

There, on the porch, was a very confused and frightened looking cat.


A/N: Dun dun dun! This should be interesting... What will Russia do now?

R&R! Next chapter will be up... I don't know when. School starts up tomorrow and I have marching band practice after school. Fun.