A short snippet for hetalia-writers-monthly. Your thoughts are always appreciated!

Theme: Spring
Prompt: "No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow."

Summary: Snapshot of Canada at the end of a particularly harsh winter.

White, Red, and Green

The woman's features blurred in front of his eyes, the deep lines etched on her skin smoothening down. Her dark eyes, wide with gratitude, shone like stars. Matthew anchored himself to their brightness and forced his tired, aching limbs to remain steady.

He didn't know what the woman was saying, her words muted by the ringing in his ears. She was thanking him again, probably. Or maybe, inviting him in for a warm soup and dinner… a fierce pang of pain stabbed his stomach at the thought. He couldn't recall the last time he had had anything to eat.

Still, Matthew forced his stiff lips into a small smile, ignoring the stinging that flared up as the movement jostled the small, half-healed cuts that littered his skin.

"You don't have to thank me. I just did what I could, what I should have done. But I really must hurry home now."

He didn't wait for an answer before turning his back to the woman and walking away. His legs were threatening to buckle down under him, he wasn't sure for how long he was going to last. The old woman would have worried, insisted to take care of him.

But she shouldn't. There are people who will need her kindness far more than I'll ever do.

He had to keep reminding himself of that. His hands and feet were thoroughly frozen, so cold he could no longer even feel the discomfort – a tired, primitive corner of his brain was still alarmed at the fact, urging him to go back to the warmth of the woman's house and accept some moments of rest before setting off again.

Matthew swallowed down the urge and kept walking. He could afford to wait some more time – hours, even. No lasting harm would come to him. His people, instead…

His chest ached at the thought.

This is why I can't stop and rest. Mr Raine's roof has some leaks and with his bad back, he can't do anything about it on his own. If it doesn't get fixed…

The resources were stretching thin for everybody. Whatever Matthew could do to help, he had to. He should feel guilty for thinking even for a moment about his own discomfort, too – he wanted to, but that overwhelming weariness made him numb. Unable to concentrate on anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

Even that small task was becoming more and more taxing with each passing second. Matthew tried to quicken up his pace, only for the earth to tilt to a side under him. Black spots filled his vision.

No, not now! Just a bit longer…

He bent down and braced his hands against his knees, trying to breathe in deeply. The cold air scratched his throat and chest as if he had swallowed a jar of pins.

Just a moment. I'll rest a moment, and then I'll go.

At that point, it was more like a prayer than a resolution. The dizzy spell wasn't lifting, Matthew's ears were ringing even worse than earlier. He couldn't even see the ground in front of him – just snow, snow-covered trees, and the white sky looming over him. They all blurred together in a single, bright mass. All he could feel was the cold slapping his cheeks and seeping into his bones.

Just like his people, Matthew didn't have much more he could give.

He tried taking a deeper breath, but his lungs seemed to rebel against the searing cold. He found himself coughing, unable keep in the air he so desperately longed for. It wasn't long before he had to bend down, his lungs throbbing.

His body swayed dangerously.

No. I can't fall.

Somehow, just out of willpower, he didn't.

Little by little, even the coughing died down, leaving in its wake Matthew's thundering heart and a deep, penetrating ache inside his chest. Bitter, slimy mucus clogged up his throat and coated his mouth.

Matthew took an experimental shallow breath and spat down. He didn't dare to raise his head for fear the dizziness would prove to be too much to handle.

Finally, the blurred mess in front of his eyes started to solidify into shapes. The white layer of snow was now spotted with a few drops of crimson. There was some sort of twisted beauty in that cruel contrast. White, the colour of ethereal purity – and that human-made red putting on display the truth hiding behind that marvellous and terrible spectacle.

A trick of nature.

Matthew almost wanted to chuckle at that.

But as he slowly raised his head, a second glimpse of colour caught his attention. He froze in the motion, his eyes focusing on an unexpected view.

Green.

For a moment, he couldn't believe it. But there it was – an undeniably green blade of grass, boldly making its way out of the snow.

At that moment, everything faded away. The pain, the desperation, even the illness festering in his body – nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but what the sight in front of his eyes meant.

The wave of relief that washed over Matthew felt almost warm.

Spring is coming.

For another year, they were going to beat the winter.

(word count: 866)