Chapter Text
It started with a cough, of course. A mild cold after getting drenched and chilled, nothing exciting. He’d always been healthy, colds passed quickly, he’d be better in no time.
But he couldn’t quite shake it. Even after his clothes and bedding finally dried (He’d gotten caught in some terrible storms, leaving him cold and wet for days) in the warmer southern air, the chill was still inside his chest. A small, nagging thing that wouldn’t leave. Hot tea would sometimes help a bit, and he drank it by the gallon. Drive out the cold, loosen up his lungs. Not like he had money for a doctor… not like he had money at all. He’d be fine. He continued on his way, sleeping rough as he did, here and there.
Half way through winter, he started to realize that maybe he wasn’t fine. The cough hadn’t gone away, only worse. It rattled in his chest when he tried to run, left him breathless. Woke him up at all hours when he tried to sleep. The effort of the constant coughing hurt his chest. Certainly sleeping on the ground wasn’t helping.
Moominpapa’s sauna would do the trick, he thought miserably to himself, wrapped up tight in his bed roll by a fire. It’d help him sweat out this fever, maybe he’d be warm for the first time in weeks. He was so cold, down to the bone. Despite the wool blanket and coat, despite being as close to the fire as he could without scorching, his teeth chattered. Maybe if he got warm, he could rest without coughing himself awake, and if he could rest…
He could go back to Moomin valley. There’d be tea and soup there, the sauna, Moomintroll to make sure he stayed in bed- but it was winter, they’d still be hibernating. And the snow to slog through to get there. Climbing up into the mountains with a fever was a terrible idea.
The world slid sideways as he tried to stand up, he found himself face down on the ground. This was bad. Fever or not, he should head home (home?) to somewhere safe to recover. And soon, while he still had some strength.
He loved the forest, but he didn’t want to die here.
He walked in a feverish dream, half asleep and half awake. Ate little, drank as much as he could because the thirst wouldn’t go away. He caught a glimpse of himself in a frozen pool, he looked bad. Face pale, deep purple under his eyes, hair tangled and dirty.
He had to be close to Moomin valley, the weather was getting worse and the snow deeper. Another day or so, and he could be in the Moomin house…
It took everything he had to get up to his feet and pick up his bag. More to get one foot in front of the other.
The world shrunk to a point. He couldn’t feel his feet, he long stopped being able to feel his hands. His lungs hurt, breathing in the cold air was a struggle. It took too much energy just to breathe.
One step.
Another.
He stumbled on a root, fell to his knees. Somehow got up.
One step.
Another.
It got darker, the wind slicing through his coat. Exhaustion was setting in, but if he stopped, he wasn’t sure he could get started again. Laying down in the snow would be death. Stopping would be death. If he could just get to the Moomin house, he could get a fire going in the kitchen, get warmed up-
He stumbled again, his numb feet caught up in something and he fell hard.
Get up, get up, get up-
But his body wasn’t listening to him anymore, having been pushed past its limits for days. He was past shivering, past even feeling the cold anymore. Maybe, if he rested just for a few minutes here, gather his strength-
And in a few minutes he was past thinking much of anything at all.
----
Something woke Moomin up from his hibernation. This happened from time to time and he hated it. Hated being alone while everyone else slept. The cold, the snow. Better to sleep through it all until spring came.
But something woke him up all the same. A change in the wind, a noise where there should have been none? There was a foot and plus snow on the windowsill when he pushed it open. Dawn was trying to peek over the horizon, turning the edge of the sky purple. It was still and quiet, one of those moments where the world seemed to be holding its breath.
Moomin just wished there was someone to share it with him. Well, he’d find a book, see if he could read away the insomnia-
His ears twitched. Music? Snufkin’s music? It was gone, then- there it was again! A bit here, a bit there- but it was too early for him to come back!
Excitement came over him, overriding any good sense he might have had.
Snufkin was back!
He tumbled over his own feet as he ran down the stairs and out the front door. The snow was up past his knees but that didn’t mean much, as short as his legs were. It had stopped snowing at least, the clouds starting to move out. The dawn was turning the snow a lurid pink-blue. There was something dark in the snow, almost near the bridge. Moomin almost missed it, except that it looked like a pile of clothes, like-
The joy turned to panic and he ran faster. It looked like Snufkin’s coat and hat and he wasn’t moving. The snow had built up over the still form, Moomin brushed it off before turning him over. He was pale and cold, and for a moment- Snufkin coughed and moaned, like the movement hurt him. But he was alive!
Moomintrolls were not known for their athleticism. They were made for softer activities, like digging for shells, not carrying young men for a mile or so home through snow. If there was such a record for Moomintrolls to do so, Moomin would have gotten first place. He took speed instead of care, groke knows how long Snufkin had been out there, laying in the snow. Mama would know what to do.
His loud panic managed to wake up the rest of the household. Well, the slamming doors did most of it, then the broken crockery that came down as he tried to get the big stock pot down to heat up water. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so dire.
Moominmama sent him to get blankets, put papa to work getting the wet clothes off the boy. Little My sat on the counter, quiet for once while mama built up the fire. Getting him warm was the first order of business, with dry blankets and flannel-wrapped hot water bottles. Moomin tried not to cry, watching as he went from limp to shivering as he warmed up.
“Where?” he mumbled, eyes opening, unfocused. Papa held him up at mama’s instructions, cradling him against his flannel pajamas.
“Snufkin, sweety, I need you to drink this.” she ordered, holding his jaw. It was one of her special teas, good for things like fevers and colds, although he needed it’s warmth as much as anything. With someone who’d been out in the cold and frozen like this, you had to warm them from the inside as much as the outside. He tried to swallow, a good bit dribbled out from the corners of his mouth, but most made its way inside. “That’s a good boy, Snufkin.”
“Mama?” he muttered, half-focused on her finally. It was barely a word, tumbling out as his eyes drooped shut again. His face was still pale, but his lips were not blue anymore.
“I do not like the sound of his breathing. Moomin, help your papa take him to bed. You can keep him warm there while I make up a poultice.”
---
Waking up was murky. Maybe he didn’t wake up, maybe he was dreaming it. Bits and pieces, drinking something warm, laying on something soft. Voices talking like he was underwater. All his bones hurt and he was glad for the soft thing he was on. Someone stroked his hair, put a warm hand on his face. It should be time for him to get up and move on- but every time he came close to the surface of waking up, he’d go deep back down, back to sleep where nothing hurt and everything was warm.
No, when he truly woke up it was like being pulled out of water. He was cold, drenched with sweat and weak- but awake. It took a moment to remember where he was- no, he recognized the room more than remembered how he got there.
“Moomin?” it came out hoarse and he ended coughing until tears came to his eyes. There was a clattering and thumping from the stairs before Moomin rushed in with a mug of something in his paws.
“Snufkin! You’re awake!” the mug went on the nightstand as the Moomintroll’s paws felt his face. “And your fever’s gone!”
“How long have I been here?” he tried to sit up, but his body felt like he’d fallen off a mountain. Twice. Not that he’d fallen off a mountain twice to know that was exactly how it felt like, but he could imagine it was pretty close to how he felt now. He tried not to feel embarrassed that Moomin had to help him up, being sick happened to everyone from time to time.
“About a week. Here, drink this. Momma made a whole big pot of soup for you.”
“Soup, yes.” he wasn’t hungry, just tired, but if he didn’t then there would be more fussing. Moomin politely ignored how much Snufkin’s hands shook as he took the mug.
It was good as always.
Even more embarrassment, he needed Moomin’s help getting to the water closet. His legs were like water, refusing to support him as he stood up. At least he could wash his own face and change into a dry pair of pajamas.
He must have fallen asleep after that, he woke up with Little My staring at him from the foot of the bed.
“Look at you, you’re a mess.” she said accusingly. Moominmama had very quietly threatened to hang her from the rafters like a dried ham if she bothered Snufkin. Peh. “you’re lucky you’re not dead.”
“Were you worried about me, Little My?”
“Of course not.” she plopped next to him. She had slept under Moomin’s bed the entire time he’d been delirious, but she wouldn’t tell him that. He smiled like he knew before coughing into his pillow. It took a minute or two before he got his breath back.
“Well, I guess you can stay here for the rest of the winter. Keep Moomin from moping around weeks on end waiting for you if you’re already here.”
“That is the bright side. Where is he?” at least he could sit up on the side of the bed by himself with a minimum of dizziness.
“Mama made him go outside to gather herbs. He needed fresh air. I promised to make sure you didn’t do something stupid like run off- wait what are you doing?”
“Finding my clothes.”
“What? Get back in bed.” he was weak enough she easily pulled him down. “You sound awful and you’re the color of bad milk.”
“I just need to…” he had wanted to come back here, why did he already want to leave? That trapped feeling again.
“Back. in. bed.” somehow she manhandled him until she had him pinned under the blankets. It didn’t help that the bed was very comfortable, very nice to be laying in.
Little My sighed as he went back to sleep, stubborn ass. Nonetheless she tucked the blanket around him before settling in the curve of his back. He wouldn’t be sneaking out on her watch.