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Something was wrong. Snufkin so badly wanted to sleep, but his body had awoken him and refused to let him drift off again.
Groggily, he sat up on the couch, feeling sweat that had stuck on to his neck. It was well into the night now and everything was eerily still. It must have been a few hours after midnight, in the hours of the night when only the smallest of creeps would tiptoe around.
His stomach seized up with a frustrated growl. The cramps had come back, and with the slight fever his cold was giving him, he felt all kinds of rotten. When he felt his muscles ache, a shiver ran down his spine. He couldn’t see himself, but he could feel the pallor that spread across his cheeks. He would most likely resemble a sweaty ghost in the light. Still, he remained sitting upright, in fear that a change of position would bring out the worst of the sickness.
With a loud sniff to suck back nasal drip, Snufkin shivered and huddled over. His stomach did not like that - in fact, it really disliked it. The poor sick mumrik felt a thick liquid churning inside him, burning hot and setting fire to his system. As his mouth started to salivate in excess, he knew his body would reject the contents.
This scared him. He was not about to ruin the floors of Moominhouse, for he had already caused enough trouble by being sick. But what other option was there? Running to the bathroom was a race against time, and it would be likely that his muscles would not cooperate, so it would be a losing race.
In his panic, his eyes darted to the window just on the other side of the room. He could make it there and just in time. Briefly, he wondered if anything would be underneath the window that he would destroy, but all he cared about as the seconds passed by was getting the gunk out of his body that was burning up more and more.
Snufkin scurried over to the window and unlocked it with ease, pushing it open. The cool air blew against his pale face, and it refreshed him enough to keep the nausea at bay for the moment. Looking down, he could see only grass; Mamma’s garden was further away. As he perched himself over the window sill, the wall pressing against his stomach added pressure that, in the end, he was thankful for.
One heavy cough came, followed by the expulsion of the soup that he had before his rest. The mucus collected in his sinuses, and his cramping stomach twisted in on itself. He gripped the window sill with white knuckles, and when he shut his eyes, he felt his tears stinging his eyelids.
After the room fell silent, he shut the window and wiped his mouth. That was Moominmamma’s soup that she made for him, and his body didn’t want it. He felt immense guilt that he couldn’t keep it down. Something inside him compelled him to apologise.
As softly as his paws could carry his wobbling figure, Snufkin stumbled up the stairs, clinging to the rail. He knew the layout of Moominhouse just barely, but he could at least eliminate which room was Moomin‘s room, for he was far too familiar with that one.
The darkness was no hindrance to Snufkin‘s sight, his night vision giving him clear images. If a door was open, he would peek inside just barely to get the shape of what was inside the room, and any room with a closed door he would put an ear to the door to hear it there were any noises from within.
After sneaking around some, he heard deep bassy snoring coming from one of the rooms. The door was slightly open and he could see Mamma and Pappa fast asleep in their respective beds. He gently pushed the door open, not wanting to wake either of them.
Moominmamma’s ear twitched, and she blinked twice before sitting up in her bed. She turned her head to the doorway to see what woke her up, half expecting to see a frightened Moomintroll. But no, there stood a shivering Snufkin with sweat on the pyjamas that were lended to him.
Snufkin looked absolutely miserable and ashamed. His huge eyes were looking upward as he kept his head down in an admission of guilt. The erratic directions that his hair was spread in made him look like he struggled to stay asleep. His legs trembled as he remained standing, but he would not be for longer.
He didn’t even need to say anything, for Mamma knew how much he appreciated her doing anything for him. Too often would her offers of food and shelter be met with “I don’t want to impose” or “I’ve given you enough trouble.” It hurt her to think he could ever give her trouble, and as her mind thought about it, she realised that the quickest way to disrespect her food would be to bring it back up. But this was no slight towards her. Snufkin was sick and his body was doing what came natural to it in order to survive.
Wordlessly, she opened her arms and her green eyes meet the wide eyes of the mumrik who felt sick to his core with cold, cramps and guilt. It was still dark out, so she hoped he could see this, and more importantly, know that there was nothing wrong and no problems had taken place.
With wonky steps, Snufkin strode over to Moominmamma before collapsing in her arms. He placed his paws on her back and manoeuvred himself so that he was on her lap. She smiled and held him close, feeling his heartbeat under her own paws.
Mamma could feel the temperature in Snufkin’s body, and she knew she would have to fix that with a remedy soon enough. She kept on feeling him up and down, feeling for any abnormalities or any symptoms she would have to take care of, but in the quiet night, she heard a weak whisper from the mumrik.
“Please… just hold me..” he choked out. From his voice alone, she could tell he was on the verge of tears.
Moominmamma started to rock back and forth, and her paw ran gently over the knots in Snufkin’s hair. She hushed him any time he let out a sob, but never admonished him. It was healthy to have a cry. But all she wished was to absolve him off his guilt because he did nothing wrong! For now, she kept Snufkin close to her, letting her soothing and rhythmic heartbeat reset the panic and fear the mumrik let out every second.
She just hoped he was okay.