Chapter Text
Snufkin’s nerves weren’t exactly doing the greatest, in this moment.
His heart had picked up beating once he’d woken the next day, packed up camp, and started walking. Even with the snowfall of yesterday, the patterns in the snow were unmistakably trails leading to Moominhouse. With the weather, the cold was almost indistinguishable from that caused by the Groke, and he felt a twinge of anxiety at the thought of her freezing the Moomins while they slept.
The next upsetting thing was when he’d misjudged the depth and solidity of the snow. It varied from part to part, but the spot over the river seemed to be softer than the rest, and he had plunged down through the white cold. He didn’t break the ice all the way, but he could still feel the chill of the river-water seeping through his shoes and pants- even up to a bit of his chest. He’d have to change into some spare rags while he dried himself tonight.
On the topic of tonight, he’d considered staying the night in Moominhouse for an evening, just because of the river incident. They slept through quite a lot, those Moomins, and he was sure they wouldn’t mind, whether they knew or not. Perhaps he could borrow a blanket to cover himself in as he let his clothes dry near their fireplace.
Well, whatever decision he made in relation to his sleeping place, staying at Moominhouse would require him to enter it, bringing the scenario to nerve-inducing incident number three. He’d walked a fair bit, and while he dragged his boots through the snow, he’d expected the trail to let up eventually. But instead, he found himself looking deep into a hole that led to what he assumed was the front door of his friend’s house. It was rather large, and looked as if it had been clawed out.
It would be awfully dreadful if a wild animal had gotten in, he thought. Perhaps that’s why I’m here- the cards have brought me to protect Moomin.
Wet feet, then wet legs, then a wet boy slid down the hole. He let out a soft grunt as his bottom hit what was either the wood deck or a thin sheet of ice, and placed his hand tentatively on the doorknob.
If it’s a wild creature, I mustn’t cause a ruckus, for it’ll notice me, and I can’t help the Moomins much if I die before I even get a chance to protect them.
His breath caught in his throat as the doorknob turned without his paw moving it.
- - -
Moomin could have sworn he was hallucinating. What is one to think, when they come face to face with something so strange? He shut the door as soon as he opened it, slamming it in the man’s face.
It was as if someone had fused his best friend with the hair-creature from the movie about the creepy family that Little My had forced him to watch one night.
Is it a mimic, like from Pappa’s stories? Has a bug taken control of Snufkin’s body, and it’s eating him from the inside, and the hair is just growths, like that weird fungus and the ants? Oh dear, oh dear! Moomin thought, his mind racing.
A stunned silence passed between the boys on each side of the doorframe, before Moomin heard a call from the other side.
“Moomintroll? Is that you?”
It was certainly Snufkin’s voice, albeit a bit more raspy, which reassured Moomin’s fears about body possession or evil doubles, but caused a whole new set of worries to rise to the surface of his brain.
Oh, what will he say? How would he even react? Why is he here, even? No matter, he’ll most definitely feel as though I’m a freak if I let him in! A Moomin, out in winter? Foolish!
“Moomintroll, my dear friend, I feel as though we might have things to discuss, but at the moment, I must admit I’m a bit chilled,” Snufkin’s muffled voice spoke through the door.
“Oh! Yes! How stupid of me, I’m so sorry!” Moomin opened the door before his thoughts could remind him of the fact that he should be anxious. “Come- come in!”
Snufkin-but-hairier stepped into Moominhouse, and the first thing Moomin noticed besides the excess fur was that his friend seemed absolutely drenched.
Apparently he didn’t hide his gaze well, because Snufkin found it easy enough to follow to his soaked clothes. “I fell into the river. I planned to heat up here overnight while you all slept, but… I suppose that plans will have to change, now.”
“Lots of plans seem to have changed,” Moomin remarked. “You should, uh… I’ve got some old clothes that I’ve grown out of that would probably fit you. You can undress in my room- if you’d like, of course! Just, you won’t get any warmer in damp clothing…”
His friend smiled (though one would have to pay close attention to the slight way the sides of Snufkin’s mouth tilted upwards, Moomin had become accustomed to it), a bit awkwardly. “Thank you. I suppose it’s better than huddling naked under a blanket I’d stolen from your cabinets, or such.”
Moomin did not, absolutely did not, let himself think about Snufkin naked under a blanket, for that would be rather embarrassing, and entirely inappropriate. Instead, he led the way to his room in a heavy silence, presented Snufkin with the old pyjamas, and went downstairs to start a fire in the stove for some soup.
Easier to talk about strange subjects when you can disguise your awkwardness in a sip of stew instead of speechlessness- and the two most certainly had a strange subject to speak of.
- - -
It wasn’t hard for Snufkin to realize why the cards had told him to return to Moominvalley, now. He still wasn’t sure of the specific reasoning, but Moomin being awake in winter was definitely a certifiable large-scale event, so part of the mystery was solved.
He slipped his arms into the jumper Moomin had given him, pulling it over his head and placing his hat on after (luckily, it hadn’t gotten wet). The fabric was woolen and slightly itchy, but he could tell it would be easy to become accustomed to, and it was quite warm. It was a light blue, with a pale yellow “M” stitched onto the middle of its chest- he could faintly remember My sewing letters onto the sweaters Moominmamma had knitted for everyone, complaining about how they’d hardly differ, with so many family members and friends having names that started with the same letter.
He stuck his furry legs through the green pyjama pants of varying shades, and found they had a slot in the back for a tail, which he decided would be best to use (he’d usually keep his tail in one of his pant legs, but nothing’s worse than having extra wet fur stuck to your leg and causing chafing). When he grabbed his soggy boots in his paws, slipping down the stairs, he could faintly smell burning. “Moomin?”
“Oh! Snufkin! Sorry, I was trying to cook for us both, but you know I’ve never been the best at it- oh.”
Snufkin shuffled awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen as his friend stared at him, looking a bit flushed. “Is something the matter, Moomintroll?”
At his words, Moomin seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, and quickly turned towards the ruined soup. “Oh, no, of course not. Uh, here’s your portion, though you might have to add a million spices if you want it to be edible.”
Snufkin let himself chuckle as he placed his boots near the fire to dry before walking in and sitting down at the table. “I appreciate the effort, at least.”
With those words, the room became tense once again, and this time Moomin broke the silence, fidgeting with his tail as he looked down.
“Well, Snuf, I suppose we’ve got things to talk about, huh?”