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Too soon. He'd come back too soon.
Snufkin huddled by his small campfire, bundled in every bit of clothing and blankets he owned.
He had tried a new direction this winter, and found unrest and anger, a country on the verge of exploding, a powder keg waiting for the spark that would catch while sparks rained down on them, any one of them capable of being the one to set it all ablaze.
Snufkin had been too far in to avoid it all by the time he'd realized what was happening, and gotten out of there as quickly as he could.
Some things were inevitable, and he'd gotten some people out along with him, but there was only so much one vagabond could do.
It was Moomin changing him, he'd thought. Once he would have helped what he could as he ran, but now, he'd actively tried to do what he could. Not that that was a bad influence, just...something he noticed.
Heartsick at what he'd seen and finding himself needing home in a way he usually craved solitude, he'd turned back towards Moomin Valley without checking the weather, the signs that would have told him if winter were over yet. He'd been too upset, too needing of the gentleness of home, to think of it. Solitude weighed against that need, and lost.
And he was paying for that now.
Winter had another few weeks to go, and Snufkin didn't think he'd make it that long.
He didn't have cold weather gear. He avoided the cold, leaving Moomin Valley when the snows began (he'd tried to stay until Moomin hibernated for years, but as they grew, Moomin understood more why Snufkin left, and urged Snufkin to leave when it got cold enough that his tent would be frigid in the mornings. Moomin – and Snorkmaiden too, now, Snorkmaiden who looked between him and Moomin with an odd look on her face – weren't happy he left, sadness still in their eyes, but they urged him to leave before the snows kept them in anyway).
But he'd wanted to see them so badly, to hear Moominmamma's calm voice and Moominpappa's stories, hear Little My's mischief and Sniff's silly ideas, to be reminded of and surrounded by kindness, that he'd ignored the signs.
Now, he was too close to Moomin Valley to turn back, and too far to make it to Moomin House before freezing, he feared. He wasn't sure how close he was, with all this snow and darkness and cold.
The snow had started last night, a last hurrah of the season, and the wind was bitterly cold.
The tent tried its best to keep out cold and wind, but it was only waterproof canvas, no match for cold like this.
Snufkin glanced up at the sky. There was no hint of stars above, the sky clouded over with thick, grey clouds that hung heavy and ominous with more snow.
Snufkin chewed at his lip and considered. He had a fire, small as it was, and some shelter. Or he could try and get some more distance before the snow came.
Distances were harder to tell during the winter, with his normal landmarks obscured by snow, but...
Snufkin climbed on top of a nearby rock carefully, straining to see. That white lump, could it...
It was! It was Moomin House, almost terrifying covered in snow as it was, with no smoke from the chimney, appearing lifeless, but if he could make it there...
It was a two hour walk in the spring, Snufkin estimated. With the snow...
“Finally stopped?” a voice asked from his camp, and Snufkin jumped.
He spun, nearly slipping off the top of the rock, recovered, and started to jump off.
Only to slip and fall, caught by his father.
“Papa!” he said, mildly embarrassed a moment later at the silly stumble, but only for a moment. “What are you doing here?”
“Should be asking you that,” Joxter said, setting Snufkin back on his feet. “Forebodings.”
Snufkin winced. “Got caught up in something that was going to turn bad,” he said simply. “I...”
He hesitated, realizing he'd about to say “I wanted to go home.”
Joxter smiled, brushing snow off his son's hat. “I looked like that about the time I realized your mother was home for me,” he said lightly. “Moominkit and Snorkmaiden?”
Snufkin ducked his head before shivering violently. Joxter wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “We'd better press on. Neither of us is equipped for this. Moomin House is probably cold right now, but they'll have firewood and shelter and food they won't grudge us.”
“Not that it would stop either of us if they did,” Snufkin said with a grin.
“Heh, not in this weather.”
The tent was taken down, the fire smothered, and the two started on their way.
---XXX---
The skies darkened farther until it was almost too dark to see soon after they started walking, and the snow began, heavy, fat flakes drifting down gently, deceptively.
Joxter glanced up at the sky and winced, glancing back at his kit. Neither of them were ready for this weather, and he had heavier fur than his half-mymble son, but even so, they were already both so cold...
The tent wouldn't have been enough, even with both of them in it. They had to keep going.
---XXX---
It was a nightmare.
The landscape around them had turned grey, sight limited by the snow. The sky was grey, the land underneath dully white, almost as grey as the sky, and only Joxter's sense of direction kept them heading in the right direction.
The snow was up to Snufkin's hips, and he had to push through it even when walking behind his father, as it caved in behind Joxter and filled in quickly with the amount of snow that was falling.
There was no thought, nothing but the cold and the effort of putting each foot in front of the other.
For once, Snufkin couldn't have said how long he had been walking, how much longer it would take to get where he was going.
One step. Another. Try not to notice how you can't feel your face, that your paws have stopped hurting from the cold. Head down, follow your father, hope you get to Moomin House before you can no longer walk and Moomin has to find you come spring.
Snufkin fell into a light trance until he rammed into his father and nearly fell, only saving himself by grabbing on with paws that couldn't feel the texture of Joxter's coat to his father.
He leaned around Joxter and stared.
The Groke stared back.
They silently stared at each other for long moments, as the snow roared and the Groke stood in their path, the wind whipping at the mumrik's coats and hats, biting with cold.
“Please,” Joxter said. “We need to get to Moomin House.”
“We won't last much longer out here,” Snufkin added. “Please, Miss Groke.”
She stared at them with her cold, emotionless eyes before something seemed to soften. Moaning, she moved aside and pointed downward.
They'd lost the way in the storm, and had been close to passing Moomin House if that was the bridge to it that she stood by, close to missing the bridge itself and going into the stream.
Close enough that the Groke stood on the bank pointing directly into the frozen water with only her between them and a frozen dunking.
Snufkin shivered harder at the thought of that icy water, which they wouldn't have lasted more than a few minutes in at most. Moaning again, the Groke turned and started moving.
She paused and looked over her shoulder, gesturing. After a moment, Joxter cautiously began following her, Snufkin in his wake.
The path she left was slick with ice and treacherous, but clear, the clearest thing they had to follow in this storm, flattening the snow behind her for them to follow.
Even if she was leading them astray...Joxter glanced down at Snufkin and knew they had to take the chance.
Snufkin was pale, starting to tinge towards blue, and under the fur Joxter knew it wasn't much longer until he was the same.
And he'd do anything to get his kit warm right now.
The Groke came to a stop, turning slowly to face them and pointing.
Towards a lump of snow.
Joxter hesitated, looking between her and the snow. She sighed, and the angle of her pointing changed.
Blue. Blue painted wood, buried under snow, only just visible in a small patch.
And one of the windows of Moomin House, saved from being hidden by its small roof.
“Thank you,” he said, looking up into those strange eyes.
Beside him, Snufkin tried to say the same, the wind snatching away the weak words.
Joxter wasn't sure if the Groke understood how dangerous the cold was for other people, but she gestured more strongly towards the house, looking towards Snufkin and back to the house.
That, it seemed, she did understand. Snufkin is in trouble, get him there.
Joxter wrapped his arms around Snufkin and they helped each other up the snow, Joxter half carrying his son a few times as they fought up the snowdrift.
The window wasn't locked, and slid open easily, letting the pair inside.
Joxter leaned out and waved gratefully to the Groke, calling out his thanks again before closing the window. She raised a paw in return before turning away, disappearing again into the storm.
---XXX---
Joxter and Snufkin patted each other down, ridding themselves of the worst of the snow before they stumbled down the stairs almost drunkenly, leaning on each other.
There was wood in the stove in the kitchen, something Joxter silently thanked every deity he'd every heard of for as he fumbled to light it with paws that had gone numb with cold.
It took longer than usual because of his numb paws, but a fire was roaring away soon. The kitchen was smaller than some rooms in the house, and so should warm faster, Joxter reasoned.
A kettle of snow on the top of the stove for something hot to drink, and rummaging about in the cupboards for some of the winter supplies, meant that there would be a warm meal soon.
Snufkin sat in front of the stove's open door, waiting for feeling to return and feeling his body starting to sting as it returned to warmth.
Joxter sat down next to him, passing him bread and jam and a mug. It wasn't the best meal, but it was a start.
They ate and ate, putting food on top of the stove to heat. Moominmamma would understand when she woke.
The house was too silent, and the two drew closer in discomfort. Moomin House was meant to be filled with the sounds of people, of laughter and talk and life, not this quiet cold.
Finally full, Snufkin stood, slipping out of his boots and his still snow-covered smock, which was beginning to be wet and heavy as the snow on it melted. “I have to check...” he said, gesturing towards the stairs. “I know they're fine, it's just...”
Nodding, Joxter did the same. No sense in trudging more snow onto Moominmamma's nice floors than they already had. And with how deathly silent the house was, well...maybe he'd feel better if he did a check of his own.
They separated at the landing, heading for bathrooms and then to bedrooms.
---XXX---
Joxter slipped into the Moominparents' room.
During most of the year they slept separate, in their own rooms, but during the winter they shared for warmth, and, with the house so quiet...
It was, maybe, irrational, but in the silence of the house he had to check and be sure they were really just sleeping, just as his son did.
Joxter leapt gently up onto the bed, making it dip lightly under his weight. Carefully, cautiously, he crawled up it, not wanting to wake either of the sleepers.
Moominpappa, then Moominmamma. Still breathing, still deeply asleep.
Joxter sighed, sinking down onto the bed in relief, his tail wrapping over Moominmamma's sleeping form.
Oh, it was warm here, between them. And the bed was so soft...
Joxter slipped into sleep between one breath and the next, lying curled between Moominmamma and Moominpappa, who rolled in their sleep closer to his shivering form, their arms slipping over him as they cuddled closer, the shivers finally easing under their warmth as he snuggled into their embrace.
Softly, he began to purr.
---XXX---
Snufkin rubbed at his arms as he came to the top of the stairs, glancing out the window.
The worst of the chill was gone, but he was still cold, deep down, his paws still chilled and nose cold.
He'd go back to the fire after he checked. After being so frozen, it still felt as if being warm had been little more than a dream.
The door threatened to creak, and Snufkin slipped in through the smallest crack he could, easing it closed behind him.
Snorkmaiden and Moomin were sharing a bed, and he shoved down the quick spike of jealousy. He and Moomin had done the same, there was no reason to be jealous.
No, really. He was being silly.
He padded over to the bed, leaning over it. He'd just check quickly and leave before it got creepy.
Moomin mumbled in his sleep, rolling over towards Snufkin, and Snorkmaiden breathed deeply beside him.
Snufkin breathed his own sigh of relief.
“Snufkin...” Moomin said. Snufkin jerked, staring down at Moomin, before shaking his head and chuckling.
Moomin was talking in his sleep.
Snufkin started to rise and bit back a yelp as Moomin's paw caught around his wrist, pulling him into the bed and under the covers.
The next few seconds were a blur as Moomin rolled, and Snufkin found himself between Moomin and Snorkmaiden, his back against her chest and her arm over his hip, pressed against Moomin's chest and with Moomin's arms around him, his own arms trapped between them. Snorkmaiden's snout was pressed against the back of his neck, and Moomin's against the top of his head. His tail was tangled in their tails somehow, curled on top of their legs.
He laid frozen, unable to believe what was happening, before trying to squirm free.
Moomin moaned in his sleep, holding Snufkin tighter. “No...”
Snufkin froze again.
He didn't want to wake them...but if he kept moving, he would...but he couldn't stay like this...
But oh, they were so warm.
It was the first time Snufkin had felt really warm in a week. Warm, and so soft, and he was so comfortable...oh, he'd missed them both so much...he'd get up in a minute, he would, he'd find a way out in...in just...just a minute...
Smiling, Snufkin slipped into sleep.
---XXX---
Moomin woke slowly. Oh, he felt so much more comfortable than he usually did after hibernating...wait...oh, they were cuddling. That was nice. So very nice. It would only be better if...
A small paw tugged on the fur on his chest, and Moomin became aware that there was a third body in the bed.
He pulled back, staring down at Snufkin, his mouth dropping open in shock. A blush started coloring his face as he realized where his paw was – on Snufkin's hip, the shirt Snufkin was wearing rucked up so that Moomin's paw rested on soft, warm skin, while Snufkin was pressed against Snorkmaiden, his back to her chest and her arm over his waist, her paw in the same predicament as Moomin's only on Snufkin's stomach, holding him close in sleep, her snout nuzzled against the back of Snufkin's neck. And Moomin was very aware of how his snout had been resting against the top of Snufkin's head until he pulled back, how Snufkin was curled into his chest with his paw buried in Moomin's fur, deeply asleep.
“Snufkin?” he cried. He yanked his paws off of Snufkin, still able to feel that soft skin and blushing fiercely.
Behind Snufkin, Snorkmaiden began to wake up, rubbing at her eyes. Moomin saw her go through the same realizations he had, also staring down at the still sleeping Snufkin in shock and dawning delight.
Snufkin's eyes blinked open, sleepily. “Wha...” he sat up, scrubbing a paw over his face and through his hair as his tail slid against Moomin's leg while he slowly sat up.. His eyes flew open a moment later, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
“Snufkin?” Moomin asked.
“Uh, hello Moomin. Snorkmaiden.”
“Good morning to you too,” Snorkmaiden said, squeezing his hip. “What are you doing here?”
“Ah, got caught up in things, a really big mess, and tried to come back too early,” Snufkin said, his voice still thick with sleep. “Papa and I got caught in a storm. Groke led us here. Came up to check on you, and you,” sleepily pointing at Moomin, “pulled me into bed. First time I was warm all week. I must've fallen asleep. Sorry.”
He stretched as Moomin stared, still processing what he'd heard. Snorkmaiden giggled. “I wouldn't mind waking up like this more often,” she said lightly, and Snufkin froze, the earlier blush coming back in full force. “We'll talk about it after breakfast,” she teased, patting his cheek. “Where's Joxterpappa?”
“He was going to...check on...your parents...” Snufkin said, he and Moomin staring at each other as they both came to the same conclusion.
“He wouldn't.”
“He would.”
---XXX---
Downstairs, a very unapologetic Joxter was making coffee, tail swinging lazily and happily, a purr catching in the song he was humming while Moominmamma worked on breakfast and a flustered Moominpappa uncovered the table and chairs.
Joxter caught sight of his son coming down the stairs, flanked by a blushing Moomin and smug Snorkmaiden, and gave him a wink.
Oh, this looked like it was going to be an interesting year.