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Chapter Text

Snufkin was used to many strange things happening in Moominvalley. After all, moomins were strange creatures, and the people they kept company with often stranger still. Yet, he had always believed that no matter what strangeness occurred, things would go back to the way they always were. The Moomin family would live in Moominhouse, hosting parties and taking in strays. No matter what occurred over the year, after winter, Snufkin would play his mouth-organ on the bridge, waiting for Moomintroll to stir as the spring swallows flew home to roost.

So he wasn’t the least surprised when he returned from an impromptu trip north to a great deal of clamour.

Yet for once, it wasn’t Moomintroll rushing to meet him. Instead, as he approached Moominhouse with his rod over his shoulder and a bucket of minnows in his paw, Snorkmaiden and Sniff were charging up the path towards him.

“Snufkin! Thank goodness you’re back!” cried Snorkmaiden.

“Seriously!” said Sniff. “If anyone can figure this out it’s you, Snufkin.”

“Well now, what’s all this about?” asked Snufkin, extracting his arm from Snorkmaiden’s grip. “You’re making a lot of fuss.”

“It’s Moomin, Snufkin,” said Snorkmaiden, grabbing his arm back almost the second it got free. “He’s cursed!”

“Cursed?”

“Something went wrong with one of the Witch’s spells,” said Sniff. “I said – Snufkin, I said this was a lot of dangerous nonsense. Moomin should be happy just to have a good meal and a warm bed, but he never listens to me.”

“Well I think it was a splendid idea, Sniff!” retorted Snorkmaiden angrily. “It’s not his fault the Witch made a mistake!”

“Well I think he was silly to have anything to do with her,” said Sniff, putting his paws on his hips and scowling. “Nothing ever goes well when she’s around.”

Snufkin was thoroughly lost.

“Come on now, stop arguing,” he said, looking between them. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s easier if we show you, come on!” said Snorkmaiden, and seized his paw. They were making enough racket that even he was beginning to get worried – yet Moomin was always getting into one strange situation or another. And the others did tend to get carried away.

Still, he couldn’t resist a story. So as Snorkmaiden began to run, pulling him along, Snufkin just clutched his hat to his head and followed along, running all the way until they reached the beach.

Snorkmaiden dropped his paw and cupped her paws around her mouth.

“Moomin!” she shouted across the sea. “Moomin!”

Snufkin watched her, still no closer to knowing what was going on.

Something broke the surface of the water – a sleek head, with a long nose and large eyes.

“Sleeky?” asked Snufkin, recognising the dolphin he and Moomin had rescued last summer.

“You know her?” asked Sniff.

“Well, yes, she washed up on shore last year, and me and Moomin rolled her back into the sea,” she said, and then turned his attention back to the dolphin. “Hullo, Sleeky! Nice to see you again.”

“Hi Snufkin,” said Sleeky, not sounding particularly cheerful – but then, the only time Snufkin had met him, he had been quite whiny and unhappy. So perhaps he was just not a cheerful sort of person. “I wish it was in a better situation.”

“Sleeky, can you tell Moomin that Snufkin’s here?” she said. “I think it would make him feel a lot better.”

“You never know, he might get better the second he sees Snufkin,” said Sniff. “It’s happened before.”

“Get better? Is he sick?” asked Snufkin, growing more worried.

“Well, I’ll get him, but I don’t think Snufkin being here will fix it,” said Sleeky, and disappeared under the surface of the water. After a moment, a pair of white ears emerged from the water.

“Moomin?” said Snufkin, leaning forward, his paws on his knees. A flood of bubbles came up under the water. There was a second, and then the ears rose out of the water, followed by a nose (and then a bit more of the same nose), and then finally Moomin’s bright, familiar eyes.

“Snufkin!” cried Moomin, treading the surface of the water.

Snufkin couldn’t help but stare. Moomin’s face looked different – there was a patch of golden scales between his eyes, and his white fur had turned as sleek as a seal’s. And his voice – it was so hoarse, as though it pained him to speak. “You’re back! Oh, I’ve got so much to tell you!”

“Clearly!” said Snufkin. “Moomin, what happened to your paws?”

Moomin’s lifted his paws further out of the water. There was golden webbing between his fingers. Moomin stretched them out, the sunlight making them glitter.

“You should see my tail,” said Moomin with a weak laugh, lifting his tail out of the water. Instead of his brush of soft fur, his tail now ended in a little fin, the same golden colour.

“Is this the Witch’s curse?” said Snufkin, narrowing his eyes. The Witch tended to get up to some mischief but transforming Moomin like this was a step too far!

“It’s not really a curse, it’s just – Sleeky came back and invited me to see her favourite spot under the sea, and I wanted to go very badly Snufkin, I really did, and –“ he paused, coughing, and then continued, his voice beginning to rasp. “I well, I asked for a spell. And the Witch warned me, longer than half a day, and – and –“

Moomin gasped, his face turning a funny colour, and his voice was reduced to a rasp. His eyes went very wide.

“Moomin? Are you okay?” said Snufkin

“Moomin, go back under!” cried Snorkmaiden.

Without a further word, Moomin disappeared back under the surface of the water. Snufkin turned to Sniff and Snorkmaiden in shock, but they were just staring sadly at the point where he disappeared. Snorkmaiden looked dangerously near tears.

“Hmph! Well, he stayed up a lot longer that time!” said a tiny voice behind them. Snufkin turned to find Moominmamma standing behind them with a basket over her arm, Little My’s scowling face poking out from it.

“I should have figured he’d be able to stay up longer if he’s talking to Snufkin,” continued Little My, folding her arms and leaning on the rim of the basket. “He never manages it that long when he’s talking to me.”

“Let’s take it as a good sign,” said Moominmamma, and took Little My out of the basket by the scruff of her neck like a kitten. She then crouched and held the basket out towards the water. “Sleeky, dear, would you take this care basket down for him? There’s some yummy dried herring in there for you too.”

“Yes, Moominmamma,” said Slinky obediently, moving forward to maneuverer her snout under the basket’s handle, before disappearing back under the water.

Moominmamma looked at them all – Snorkmaiden’s glittering eyes, Sniff’s downturned ears, and Snufkin’s shocked expression.

“Let’s go back to Moominhouse for a cup of coffee,” she said. “I think Moomin probably needs a rest after being above water so long.”

***

Moominhouse was much messier than always. Not that Moominhouse was the type of place to always be perfectly spick and span – it wasn’t a Fillyjonk burrow after all – but Moominmamma usually didn’t leave plates of half-eaten food lying around. Unless it was for the mice.

Moominmamma brought out a pot of steaming coffee and dished out slices of a dense brown cake. It was coffee cake, which was normally Snufkin’s favourite, but it tasted a bit odd and gritty – as though the sugar hadn’t quite dissolved. That was very odd. One would usually be hard-pressed to find anything amiss with Moominmamma’s cooking.

“So because Moomin stayed for longer than half a day, the spell became permanent?” asked Snufkin, after they explained the whole story.

“That’s what we think,” she said. “Alicia did give him an incarnation to reverse it, but for one reason or another, it didn’t work.”

“It’s all that horrible Witch’s fault,” burst out Snorkmaiden, clutching her coffee cup in both of her paws. “Little My and I were there. He hadn’t been gone so long.”

“Now, let’s not point fingers,” she said. “The Witch admitted herself that something went wrong.”

“Ha! If you call looking like a deer in headlights admitting it!” said Little My, slurping milk from her glass with a straw. “She flew over all smug, thinking she was sooo clever. It didn’t last when that little incantation of hers didn’t work. She looked shocked as anything!”

“That’s hard to imagine,” said Snufkin. The Witch always seemed to know what she was doing – it wasn’t like her to be caught unaware. And while Snufkin didn’t trust her not to get up to mischief, he knew Alicia would never let any harm come to Moomin. Or any of their friends, for that matter.

“And she and Alicia are working very hard to discover a counter-curse,” said Moominmamma.

“I know, but I just want to talk to Moomin for longer than a few seconds,” said Snorkmaiden with a sigh, looking down at the dregs of coffee inside her cup. “If they just let me go and see him myself...”

“What, so you get stuck as a fish too?” said Little My, and squirted a little bit of milk at Snorkmaiden through her straw.

“Ah! Little My!” she huffed. “Don’t do that!”

Little My squirted some more milk at her, getting it in her fringe this time.

“Argh!” cried Snorkmaiden, and leapt to her feet and charged for her, and Little My ran away with a cackle. Moominmamma let them go without a comment. Perhaps sensing, as Snufkin did, that this was Little My’s unconventional method of taking Snorkmaiden’s mind off the matter.

“So, are they close to a counter-curse?” asked Snufkin.

“They’re working very hard,” said Moominmamma.

“Don’t you know how to reverse it?” said Sniff, turning his snout towards him with an expectant look on his face. “You usually know exactly what to do in this sort of situation.”

“Well, I’ve never seen anyone turned into a fish before,” said Snufkin, before a thought occurred to him. “Ah! What about the Hobgoblin? Couldn’t we summon him? I’m sure he could get Moomin back to normal in no time at all.”

“I said that! And it’s a good idea isn’t it?” said Sniff. “But the Witch didn’t even take it seriously! She just said something very rude to me.”

“She didn’t dear,” said Moominmamma. “The Hobgoblin is just on a very far planet, and she can’t reach him unless he comes closer.”

“Oh, sure. As if they’d call a planet Uranus,” snorted Sniff. Snufkin hid a giggle behind his paw, making Sniff glower at him. It looked as though he was about to tell Snufkin off for laughing when a spray of milk hit his ear, and he let out a sharp yelp, leaping to his feet and knocking his cup of coffee into his lap. Little My scampered away, cackling.

“Little My!”

Sniff gave chase as well, leaving Snufkin alone with Moominmamma. Snufkin looked at the cup of coffee between his paws, tilting it side to side so he could watch the movement of the liquid.

In many ways, it would be wonderful to be able to breathe under the water. The ocean was one of the most beautiful things on the planet, and he couldn’t blame Moomin for wanting to see what it was like to live as part of it, rather than as a visitor. Yet it was a heavy price to pay – never being able to return to land, to one’s home and one’s family.

If it was Snufkin, it would be a different matter. He could probably go live under the ocean quite happily, but Moomintroll was a domestic creature at heart. He probably missed Mamma terribly.

“I’ve heard of mermaids enchanted to be able to walk on land,” said Snufkin after a long moment’s thought. “But I’ve never seen it in reverse. And for those mermaids, the difficulty is in making the spell stick, not in making it break!”

“It’s unusual, isn’t it?” said Moominmamma.

“I’ll keep thinking, Mamma,” said Snufkin, hating to feel useless. They had clearly expected him to know what to do, and he should know what to do. “I’ll come up with something, I promise.”

There was a flicker of sadness across Mamma’s face, but it came and went so quickly Snufkin wasn’t sure if he imagined it. That happened a lot with Mamma, he realised. There would be something in her face – a way she furrowed her brow or frowned – but then it would go away just as fast.

“You don’t need to worry dear. We’ll manage,” she said. “It would just make Moomin very happy if you kept going to see him.”

***

Snufkin was no closer to thinking of a solution after sleeping on it. He woke early, deciding to go for a walk in the cool morning air. It was still warm, but the mornings and nights were finally beginning to mellow – one could walk without the sweat collecting on your upper lip, sticking your shirt to your back. He picked a pawful of blackberries from outside Mr Hemulen’s house, and walked on, eating them from his palm.

Without thinking, he found himself walking towards the ocean. The surface of the water was even, glittering in the pink morning sun. He walked along the pier towards the boathouse. Someone had left their bucket and rod the evening before, propped up against the side of the boathouse. He couldn’t see any sign of Sleeky.

He sat on the edge of the pier, letting his feet dangle above the water, and finished the last few blackberries in his palm, licking the purple juice from his fingers.

There was a sudden tug on his foot. He jumped, leaping to his feet. He saw something dart under the pier and heard a sound – like a giggle, muffled by water.

Snufkin smiled, and sat back down, taking his mouth-organ from his pocket with a great show of nonchalance. He let one foot hang down, kicking it gently back and forth as he polished his mouth-organ on his sleeve.

It was an obvious trap, but not one that could be so easily resisted. Snufkin waited, listening for movement under the water, watching out for tell-tale flashes of white or gold.

He didn’t have to wait long. He saw something approach, a webbed paw stretching out the sea.

Snufkin quickly snatched his foot up and leaned down, grabbing the paw with his own.

That was an explosion of bubbles from under the water, the muffled laughed louder this time, and a pair of white ears and blue eyes emerged from the surface of the water.

“Got you. You need to be faster than that, Moomin,” said Snufkin, greatly amused. Moomin’s paw felt smooth and oddly cold in his own.

Moomin twitched his ears at him as if congratulating him on his fast reflexes but kept his nose and mouth under the water. Snufkin let go of his paw and leaned back, kneeling at the edge of the pier.

“Ah. I guess it’s best you don’t come out to speak unless you need to,” said Snufkin. He had only been above the surface of the water for a few minutes yesterday, after all, and it sounded like that had been quite the achievement.

Moomin nodded, the smile in his eyes faltering.

Snufkin hummed, wondering if there was anything that could be done. One couldn’t very well write in the water easily, and besides that, Snufkin had used the last of his paper on jotting down a poem during his hike back from the north.

They sat in companionable silence for a while longer, Snufkin pondering and Moomin lazily treading water, simply watching him.

“Did you know,” said Snufkin after a long while, “that I once met a whole village of people to the south who talked using just their paws?”

Moomin’s eyes brightened at that, his ears perking up. Snufkin smiled at him, nodding to remind him to keep his mouth and nose under the water.

“It’s true! It was a very interesting place. You see, there had been a big accident – a meteor had landed right in the middle of the village at night,” he said, leaning forward, grinning as Moomin’s tail lashed in the water. “It made such a big boom, I saw the crater where it landed – a huge hole, deep in the earth. Nobody got hurt, but the next day, they all woke up and realised not one of them could hear. Not a peep.”

Moomin’s ears wilted.

“It was a real shock at first, I guess, but then this clever little girl came up with a new way for them to talk with each other,” he continued. “The little girl had never been able to hear. But that didn’t stop her from speaking. And how this little girl spoke – and how she taught everyone to speak – was by using their paws. Like this.”

Snufkin held up his left thumb, holding his fingers together flat. He pressed his fingers to the right side of his chest and then brought them across to the left.

Moomin lifted his paw out of the water, and made the same sign, but across his eyes. Snufkin laughed.

“Good morning to you too, Moomin,” he said, and then tapped his chin. “I suppose it isn’t exactly the same – I think some gestures change meaning depending on how high up your paws are. But there’s no reason we can’t make something like it.”

Moomin made a noise under the water – Snufkin couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded excited, bringing many bubbles to the surface.

“Well, let’s see…I think I remember a bit,” he said, crossing his legs to sit more comfortably.

The two friends sat a long while, as the morning began to grow warm. It wasn’t easy adapting the paw-speak to someone who couldn’t come fully out of the water, but Moomin was nothing if not a fast and keen learner. Soon, he progressed simply from ‘My name is Moomin’ to asking Snufkin how he was, inquiring about the price of croissant, and complaining about the weather.

Snufkin laughed at the last.

“You just said it’s too cold, Moomin,” he said and then swiped his paw across his forehead. “’I’m hot’, is more like this.”

Moomin narrowed his eyes and shook his head, holding up both of his paws bunched into fists again, shaking them closer together.

“Really?” asked Snufkin, surprised. It wasn’t exactly as hot as it had been, but it was still a pleasant summer’s day. “I can’t imagine the water’s cold on a day like this.”

“It is too cold,” burst out Moomin, lifting his snout from the water.

“Moomin, the water-“

“Oh, Snufkin, I’ve just got to ask something and I don’t know how with my paws,” he said, speaking quickly – as someone who was on borrowed time would. “The people in that village, did they ever get their hearing back?”

Snufkin frowned.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “But they managed just as well without.”

“Did they want it back?” asked Moomin, a strange, anxious look coming over him now.

Snufkin hesitated.

“Well, I don’t know, really,” he admitted. “I imagine each of them will think differently about it. When you’ve got a big group of people, it’s hard to get them all to agree on something. Many of them were proud to be the way they were and didn’t want to be any different.”

“But, what if one of them did? Surely something could be –“ began Moomin and then gasped, his voice rasping.

“Moomin, you need to –“

“I know,” he hissed, before disappearing beneath the surface of the water. Snufkin stared after him, clasping his paws to his chest, suddenly feeling very alone.

***

Moomin didn’t mention the village next time Snufkin came down to the shore. Instead, he simply lifted his paws out of the water and signed ‘Good afternoon’, so perhaps there were no hard feelings on the matter.

Over the next few meetings, Snufkin taught him every word and phrase in the paw language he could remember. Soon, Snufkin’s memories of that brief week in that little village wasn’t sufficient, and they needed to come up with a few of their own. Moomin managed to come up with one specifically for Little My that was so appropriate Snufkin could only laugh.

Soon, they could talk a bit more easily. Not quite as they used to – but there was a back and forth that began to feel quite natural. Moomin would almost always get impatient, particularly if Snufkin was talking about something he wanted to ask questions about and emerge from the water to desperately say a few simple things. He always had to go back under, and the exertion seemed significant enough that he could only that a couple of times before he needed to rest on the seafloor.

It was horrible, thought Snufkin, to see poor Moomin gasping for breath like that. It sounded so painful.

After one long session on the beach, they were interrupted by Snorkmaiden and the others coming for a visit. With a polite smile, Snufkin excused himself. It was, despite Moomin’s complaints to the contrary, much too warm to spend all day out under the sun. As he left, he saw Moomin was already beginning to teach them some signs, to Snorkmaiden’s utter delight.

While Snorkmaiden and Sniff seemed sad about the whole thing, Moomin seemed to be doing his best to keep up everyone’s spirits. Which was terribly like him, Snufkin thought fondly. He hated for anyone to be unhappy.

Yet it was troubling him, Snufkin was certain. He settled down under the great tree outside of

Moominhouse, looking up at the trees above. The leaves were yellow and beginning to fall now. It would be autumn soon, and they were no closer to finding a counter-spell. Snufkin hadn’t even seen Alicia or her grandmother since returning to the valley. In fact, he’d went to their cottage once to see if he could help, and found it quite empty, and even messier than usual.

He looked over at Moominhouse – there was smoke coming from the chimney – Moominmamma must be cooking. Perhaps she was preparing another care basket for Moomin.

None of the children had seen either Mamma or Pappa much over the past few weeks – they were always in Moominhouse, either in the kitchen or in Pappa’s study, very busy with something, always with Granny’s book open between them. They emerged now and then to visit the shore, usually with a basket of goodies for Moomintroll, but most of their time was spent inside.

Which, the more he thought about it, the more that seemed like secrets to him. Potentially quite promising ones, if he knew anything about Granny’s recipe book.

Comforted by this thought, Snufkin laid back, tilting his hat over his head for a nap, when he saw a shadow move. He glanced up and saw the Witch, flying overhead on her broomstick with Alicia sat behind her, heading towards their cottage. There was a large bag attached to the end of her broomstick, flapping in the wind.

Snufkin sat up, feeling a sudden, hopeful rush to his chest. That looked as though they’d brought home something important – something that would help bring Moomin home.

Not even pausing to think, Snufkin began running after them, all the way towards the Witch’s cottage.

Chapter Text

There was a light on within the Witch’s Cottage when Snufkin finally arrived, nowhere near as quick as the Witch’s broomstick. Sniff, Snorkmaiden and Little My were already there, standing at the bottom of the garden, by the big tree root.

“Are you all here to see the Witch too?”

“Yes, we saw her flying overhead with attached to her broom!” said Snorkmaiden, almost shaking with excitement. “Do you think she’s found a cure?”

“Of course she has,” said Little My, “you just need to stop being cowards and go inside!”

“Well, you’re just waiting outside too,” said Sniff. “I just don’t want to barge in if they’re busy, that’s all. I’m not scared.”

“What if Alicia is still upset?” said Snorkmaiden. “I know she just felt awful when she couldn’t turn Moomin back…”

“Well, why don’t we just knock?” said Snufkin, looking across at the Witch’s cottage. “If she wants to see us, she can answer, and if not we can just wait another day.”

“Good idea Snufkin,” agreed Snorkmaiden, smiling at him.

None of them moved, all of them standing and staring at the door.

“Well, go on Sniff,” said Little My.

“Me?” barked Sniff, his ears springing up.

“Thank you Sniff!” said Snorkmaiden.

“It’s nothing to worry about, just go over there and knock!” encouraged Snufkin.

Sniff looked between them for a moment and then huffed a ‘Fine!’, stomping towards the Witch’s cottage. He glanced back at them once (earning an encouraging nod from all of them), before knocking on the door. For a long moment, it seemed as though Alicia and her grandmother may well ignore them, and then the door inched open. Alicia stood in the doorway, her lying limp and messy, and with big dark circles under her eyes.

“Uh, hello, we’re here for the counter-spell?” said Sniff.

Alicia looked as though she was going to cry.

“You dummy, don’t just demand it like that!” barked Little My.

“Alicia, it’s so nice you’re home,” said Snorkmaiden, stepping forward to try to smooth thing over, although Snufkin couldn’t help but think she sounded a bit tense. Normally she and Alicia were great friends, but Snorkmaiden didn’t even go forward to hold her paws the way she normally would. “Where did you go?”

“It’s a bit a long story, why don’t you all come in?” said Alicia, and then turned around to shout into the house. “Grandma! Snorkmaiden and Snufkin and the others are here!”

They poured into the Witch’s small cottage. The cottage was even messier than it normally looked – pieces of paper and notes and books scattered everywhere. The strangest addition, though, was the big cage full of white mice, next to a square tank filled with water and glittering silver-and-gold fish. The huge sack the Witch had been carrying on the back of her broomstick sat by the fireplace, slumped against the stone. Snufkin started at it – if there was some kind of special equipment in there to turn Moomin back to normal, he couldn’t tell what it was.

“What, the Moomin boy’s little friends are here already?” came the Witch’s voice, as she emerged from the back room. “You really don’t waste any time.”

“Of course we don’t!” said Snorkmaiden, her attitude quickly souring at the sight of the Witch. “If there’s something that can help Moomin, we want it right away.”

“Oh?” asked the Witch, with an unpleasant smile. “And what makes you think we have something like that all of a sudden?”

“Grandma –“ began Alicia, but before she could further admonish her, Little My piped up.

“Don’t try to be clever. We saw you!” she said, hopping up onto the table at the centre of the room, getting her boots all over Alicia’s notes. “We saw you flying over here with that big bag. Unless you’ve been shopping for new furniture, that must be something.”

“Hmph! Now with that attitude, maybe I shouldn’t help you at all,” said the Witch, scowling. “It’s not wise to disrespect a witch, young lady.”

“I’ll disrespect anyone I like!” retorted Little My. The two glowered at each other for a moment further, until the Witch’s mouth tugged upwards into a smirk.

“Ha, well then,” she said, and then prodded her can towards Alicia. “Alicia, why don’t you show our guests what we’ve brought back?”

Alicia heaved a sigh.

“Yes, Grandma,” she said, and turned, stooping to take something out of the bag. She stood with a large stack of books, putting them on the table next to Little My. They were so old the paper was thick and yellow, with worm leather covers. Some of them looked as though they had other things stuck inside

“Ooh, books!” said Snorkmaiden, clutching her hands to her chest.

“Urgh, books?” said Sniff, backing away as though someone was going to force him to start doing homework that second.

“Hmph, really? You left Moominvalley to just get a bunch of silly old storybooks?” asked Little My.

“These aren’t storybooks, Little My,” said Snufkin, stepping forward to take a closer look at the covers. The title of the one on top was faded, and it wasn’t exactly a language Snufkin spoke well, but he thought he could make out the word ‘sea’ and the word ‘magic’.

“As I suspected,” he said, looking up. “They’re spellbooks, aren’t they?”

Alicia only gave him a weak smile.

“That’s right, Snufkin,” she said. “We’ve been trying every spell we have, but nothing’s been working right. So, we had to go to the Witch’s Library.”

“Witches have libraries?” asked Little My. “I want to go! Take me next time!”

“The nearest one is a day’s flight, even on Grandma’s broomstick,” said Alicia. “And only Witches are allowed in, Little My. I couldn’t take you.”

“I could fit in your pocket,” grumbled Little My.

“Alicia tried to insist on staying here and working the whole while I was gone,” said the Witch, snorting. “As if she could have kept that up. A good Witch knows when she needs a break.”

Snorkmaiden blinked at that, her expression towards Alicia seeming to soften.

“We need to get Moomin back to normal as soon as possible, Grandma!” argued Alicia.

“So you all keep saying,” she muttered. “And I keep telling you, that second incantation should have worked.”

Alicia huffed, taking the first book from on top of the pile and opening it. It was messier than Snufkin expected inside – less a book, and more somebody’s notes and sketches, written in ink a long, long time ago. There were many drawings of elaborate circles, with lots of strange patterns inside them.

“Well, it’s our job to find out why it didn’t,” she said, squinting at an odd swirly drawing of a starfish before turning to the next page.

“You still don’t know?” asked Sniff.

“No. Has anything changed with Moomin?” said Alicia, not even looking up from her book. She started to dig through her pieces of paper until she found a blank one, taking a pencil from behind her ear.

“He looked the same last time I saw him,” said Little My, sitting on the edge of the desk and watching Alicia write.

“He managed to stay above the water for a little longer than normal when Snufkin came back!” said Snorkmaiden. “Is that a good sign?”

The Witch gave Snufkin a look that he wasn’t sure he quite liked.

“Maybe,” said Alicia, scribbling something down. “Could one of you get me one of those mice?”

Snorkmaiden got up off the stool she had sat herself down on and went over to the cage. The little mice all came up to the bars of the cage as she approached – it looked like a few were even wagging their tails. The fish, too, all swam towards the side of the tank Snorkmaiden was standing.

“Oh, they’re so friendly!” said Snorkmaiden

“Hehe, I suspect they would be with you,” said Alicia, laughing.

“Really?” said Snorkmaiden, humming. “Which one do you want?”

“Any of them are fine.”

Snorkmaiden opened the latch of the cage and reached a paw in, all the little mice coming towards her to inspect. She picked one up – the plumpest, that rested its paws on her fingers – and gently brought it back to Alicia, shutting the cage behind her with a click.

Alicia took the mouse from her, laying it on the centre of a plastic mat. To Snufkin’s surprise, the little creature didn’t run as one should from a witch experimenting, but stood and looked up at her with a sweet expression. There was something terribly familiar about the little creature. He had the odd urge to snatch it away from Alicia.

He only watched, however, as Alicia took a pinch of red powder from a small jar nearby and cast it on the little mouse, making it twitch its nose and sneeze. She then cupped her paws around it and began chanting quickly in Witch-speak. Snufkin tried to figure out what the words were, but she was too quick and the words too strange to be easy to make out.

Eventually, she removed her paws. Lying in the place of the mouse was a little silver fish, with golden fins. She hissed out a long word and clapped her paws together, making a small bubble of water appeared around the fish-that-was-once-a-mouse.

Snufkin glanced at Sniff and Little My, who both shrugged. They were apparently as lost as he was.

“Oh, I see. You’re going to try and get it to turn back into a mouse,” said Snorkmaiden. “It’s like one of Snork’s experiments.”

“That’s a total waste of time. Why not go to the shore and just test it on Moomin?” said Little My, kicking her feet. “It’s not like he’s doing anything else.”

 The Witch cackled.

“That’s exactly what I told her.”

“That’s not very safe!” replied Snorkmaiden quickly, before Alicia could explain herself. “Before you do the real thing, you need to do experiments with something that’s like the real thing, but nobody will get hurt if it goes wrong. Right?”

“Right,” agreed Alicia, already grinding up something in a mortar and pestle, flicking through her notes with her spare paw.

“But it’s not exactly like the real thing. Moomin’s a different thing altogether from a mouse,” said Snufkin.

“Oh, they’re not mice, exactly,” said Alicia, and jabbed the pestle towards a jar standing by the mouse cage. “They’re made from that.”

They all looked over – the jar was half-full of white fluff.

“Ew, is that Moomin’s fur?” said Sniff, stepping away.

“Uh-huh. The mice should react to my spells the same way Moomin does,” she said, pulling the cork off a bottle of blue liquid with her teeth and pouring it into the mortar. Pale steam started to rise from the mixture. “I’ve already found they don’t turn back to mice with the usual incantation, even though regular mice do…”

“What makes Moomin so special?” asked Sniff, frowning.

“Hmph, I’ve been wondering that myself,” said the Witch. “There shouldn’t be all this fuss – the incantation should work just fine. That boy must have said it wrong.”

“Grandma, I was there, he did it just fine!” snapped Alicia.

“Ah, you’re always so short-tempered when you’re brewing a spell,” sighed the Witch. Alicia muttered something in Witch-speak that Snufkin suspected was neither a spell nor particularly nice, and returned her attention to her work. Finally, she had a green-coloured paste at the bottom of the mortar. The paste twitched, once, twice, and then shrank down into a perfect little sphere. It was shiny and smooth, almost like an acorn. Alicia breathed out.

“Okay,” she said, taking a pair of tweezers and picking it up. Her face was red, sweat beading on her forehead, even though she hadn’t been doing anything that strenuous. Snufkin supposed that witchcraft was tiring, even when the steps to do it seemed quite ordinary. He knew that if he followed those exact same steps, it wouldn’t work the same way it would for Alicia and her grandmother. Chances are, he would just end up with a weird mush at the bottom of the bowl.

Carefully, Alicia took the tweezers plucked the sphere from the bottom of the bowl. Slowly, she pushed it into the bubble. The little fish looked up, golden tailfin swishing back and forth. The others all leaned forward to watch, as the little fish began to nibble at it. As soon as there was nothing left between the tweezers, Alicia chanted again, her voice low and quick.

The fish began to glow, the gold of its fins glittering and spreading through all of its scales. The glow filled the entire little bubble.

And then it faded – the fish continued to drift in the middle of the bubble, looking utterly unchanged.

“It didn’t work,” said Alicia. The others sighed – Snorkmaiden slumped back onto the stool and Little My huffed, resting her chin on her palms.

“Well it made a lot of fuss for something that didn’t work!” she said. “You know, you can tell those things are made from Moomin’s fur. They’re just as dramatic as he is.”

Alicia sighed, burying her face in her paws. Snorkmaiden patted her back.

“That looked like it was really close, Alicia.”

“I’ll put the little guy in the tank with the others,” said Snufkin, not at all comfortable with how tearful Alicia looked. He tried to put his paws under the bubble and pick it up. It didn’t really work – the water spilled out between his fingers, leaving the little fish lying on his palm. Far from flopping about like most fish taken out of the water, it simply wiggled closer to his sleeve. He was quite certain it was looking up at him.

He went to the tank and slid open the door at the top, hiking his sleeve up to his wrist so he could put the little creature back in. It didn’t seem to want to leave his paw, simply swimming back up towards his wrist, quickly joined by the other in the tank, all crowding around him, almost tugging at his fingers.

Snufkin snatched his hand back, leaving the fish all crowded at the surface of the water. He slammed the tank shut, thinking that one might even try jumping out if he left it as is.

“Urgh, I’m hungry,” said Little My, interrupting whatever quiet conversation Alicia and Snorkmaiden were having. She swung her legs and leapt from the table.

“Me too, after all this excitement I want Mamma’s grilled fish,” he said and looked at the fish in the tank.

“You can’t eat those, Sniff, that’d be like eating Moomin!” said Snorkmaiden. Alicia laughed.

“Well, not really…but they might turn back to fur in your stomach,” she said, with a smile that made her suddenly resemble her grandmother.

“Urgh! Never mind!” said Sniff, standing up. “Come on, Moominmamma must be making supper now.”

“I need to go make sure Snork has had something to eat today,” said Snorkmaiden. “I don’t think he had any of the breakfast I left him…”

“Quite a life, slaving away for some ungrateful brother,” said the Witch lazily.

“Grandma!”

Snorkmaiden gave the Witch the iciest shoulder Snufkin had ever seen her give anyone, not even glancing at her. They began to depart, Sniff interrogating Snorkmaiden about what she was making for supper (undoubtedly trying to decide where the better offer may lie), while Little My accused him of being a greedy leech (“Like you aren’t!”).

Snufkin hesitated, glancing back at the fish tank and the cage full of little mice. He was still close enough that a few of the mice were clustered at the corner of the cage, looking at him with bright eyes. The fish, by comparison, looked much more listless, drifting to and fro slowly.

Snufkin didn’t notice the Witch sliding next to him until she spoke, making him jump.

“What’s wrong, little Snufkin?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, and then glanced back at the tank.

“Now, now, don’t try to fool an old woman,” she said, cackling. “You want to ask something, don’t you?”

Perhaps he did, he thought. After all, Snufkin thought, it would be easy for him to live in the sea. He wasn’t attached to anything on land the same way Moomin or Snorkmaiden was, and he loved the ocean dearly enough that he was certain he could be happy there. Or almost as happy, anyway.

And, of course, Moomin would be there, waiting as he often was.

“Grandma, don’t,” said Alicia, standing next to her and pulling the Witch away by her shoulder. “Snufkin, I know what you’re thinking, and no. I’ve already told Snorkmaiden…it’s too risky to cast the spell on anyone else. I know you want to see him, but you might get stuck too.”

“Maybe for this little one, that would be perfectly fine, hm?” said the Witch.

“Maybe it would,” muttered Snufkin.

But would that solve it? Moomintroll would still be at sea, without his family, still leaving the same hole in Moominvalley. And when winter comes, would Snufkin be able to stay in those same waters? He couldn’t imagine the itch to leave and find warmer shores would abate so easily. And then Moomin would be left alone again.

“Could you switch us?” asked Snufkin, turning to face them.

“Switch you?” asked Alicia blankly.

“Well,” he said reasonably. “This curse would be almost a blessing for me – being able to live in the ocean, travel as a please under it. For Moomin, it’s difficult being apart from his mamma and pappa, but I don’t have anyone like that. And I mostly eat fish anyway, it wouldn’t be much of a change.”

“Snufkin –“ began Alicia.

“Well, it would work out just fine, wouldn’t it?” he said. “I’ll take his curse and go in the sea, and then Moomin can come back to the land. I can still visit the shore – I come and go anyway, so would it matter?”

Both Alicia and the Witch stared at him. For some reason, Alicia looked terribly sad, but Snufkin couldn’t guess what the Witch was thinking at all.

“Snufkin, don’t you think we’d miss you too?” she said and shook her head. “Besides, I don’t think there are any spells that could do that. Grandma?”

“Hmph, moving curses about…interesting thought, lad, but more fairy tale than real witchcraft,” said the Witch, turning towards the fireplace. She lit the fire with a mere prod of her cane and then hunched over to grab the kettle. She filled it with water, hanging it over the flames. After a while, she glanced over her shoulder at Snufkin.

“You know, you shouldn’t make such offers so lightly, boy,” she said. “Would you really be happy to give up a part of your freedom, just like that?”

Snufkin didn’t respond – after all, he wasn’t the type to respond to a question he didn’t know the answer to. He imagined a life without trees. Could he go the rest of his life without playing his mouth-organ in the warm summer air, the sunlight on his cheeks? What about poetry, what about fascinating little towns, strangers’ stories under moonlight?

Could he be content to say goodbye to all of that?

“Heh, as I thought,” said the Witch. “You go home, child. You can’t love someone into the shape you want.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Witch only laughed.

Snufkin shook his head and went to leave. At the door, he glanced again at the little cage and the tank. The little mice were playing, and the fish were drifting in the water, placid and near-still. All of them clustering to one side to look at the fire.

Chapter Text

Snufkin woke the next day to heavy rain, the kind that seemed to pour down as one cold sheet. The river by Moominhouse was beginning to swell, so Snufkin packed up his tent and moved it to higher ground. Undoubtedly Moominmamma would come looking for him before lunch, with her usual invitation to stay in Moominhouse until the rains passed.

To his surprise, she didn’t – but the smoke kept coming out of the chimney in Moominhouse.

Busy again, he thought, sitting and eating the small amount of dried fish and pre-prepared rice he kept on hand, just in case the weather was too bad to light a fire outside. If it kept up for more than a day or two, he may need to walk to the trading post.

He wondered if anyone was visiting Moomin in such dreadful weather. Then again, perhaps he stayed far beneath the surface of the sea when it was so restless. It would be silly, really, to go see him today.

What was it like, he wondered, to be under the sea with the rain pounding down above it like this? Was it peaceful, like being in his tent and listening to the rain?

Snufkin finished his rice and set the tin outside to wash out, before hefting his backpack over his shoulders. He would have a wander down to the coast, just to check. Besides, he was stuck on a tune, and the sight of the sea in the rain was always inspiring.

He slipped out of his tent and began the walk down to the shore. Not another soul was about – every house he passed, the windows were glowing orange and smoke was rising from the chimney. Even as the rain came down with such wonderful noise, forming deep puddles that simply begged to be played in. All of a sudden, the gentle music of the rain and the utter isolation filled Snufkin with energy. Everyone was home, staying warm by the fire, and he was out in a rainstorm all his own.

“More fool them!” said Snufkin cheerfully, and leapt into a puddle, sending up a wave of brown water, soaking his trousers and the hem of his coat. The mud squelched as he pulled his feet out of it, slow and then fast, and he fell back. He laughed, standing up and leaping into the next puddle.

It was a splendid thing, to be out in the rain sometimes.

Although, he wasn’t sure it would be much fun if one had nowhere to go to get warm again.

He quickened his pace.

The boathouse came into view, looking pale and distant in the rain. It was lit up too – but many little creatures took to the boathouse for shelter on rainy days. Undoubtedly, there was some creeps or woodies huddled inside, keeping themselves warm. After all, the Moomin family extended an open invitation to any who may need it.

He paused at the shore, looking out at the restless sea. The cold wind tugged at him, pulling at the soaked hem of his coat, and he grabbed onto his hat to stop it from flying away.

He couldn’t see Moomin, but he couldn’t see much, truth be told.

“Moomin!” he called out. Nothing. “Moomin!”

As he stood there, he began to feel very silly. No doubt Moomin wouldn’t come to the surface on such a dreary day – he and Sleeky were probably far beneath the surface of the ocean, curled up in some coral reef.

He was about to turn around and head back to his tent when the door to the boathouse popped open.

“Snufkin?” said Moominmamma, leaning out of the door. “Snufkin, why are you out in the rain?”

“Hullo Moominmamma!” he said, opting not to answer such an embarrassing question.

“Oh, dear. Come here. I think you could do with a cup of hot chocolate,” she said. Snufkin hesitated, but he wasn’t one to turn down a cup of Moominmamma’s hot chocolate. He headed along the pier and into the boathouse. The stove was lit inside, with a big pot on top, letting out the smell of rich chocolate. As Snufkin expected, a couple of creeps and woodies were huddled next to it, all drinking tiny cups of Mamma’s hot chocolate.

Snufkin took a seat on one of the logs, shivering in his soaked coat and hat. Mamma had brought her favourite chair to the boathouse, Snufkin noticed, and there was what looked like a half-knitted blanket slung over the arm. Perhaps she was planning to spend more time here to be close to Moomin.

One of the woodies padded over to sit next to him, looping half of the blanket resting on its little shoulders around Snufkin’s hip.

“Oh, thank you,” he said. Moominmamma stirred the hot chocolate with a ladle, and Snufkin watched the steam rise curling from it. The smell was enough to make anyone hungry – it was no wonder the little creeps and woodies had flocked here. She scooped a generous portion out and poured it into an enamel mug, the chocolate coming out of the ladle slow and thick.

“Marshmallows?” she asked but popped a few in before he could answer, and thrust it into his paws. The marshmallows bopped at the top, and the chocolate was dark and thick. Snufkin took a sip. It warmed him through to his toes, quicker than if a fairy had waved a wand at him.

“Thank you, Moominmamma,” he said. “It’s delicious.”

She beamed at him.

“It’s really no problem,” she said, and sat in her chair, taking her knitting into her lap. To his relief, she didn’t ask what he had come to the beach for in such awful weather. She just started knitting, occasionally glancing across at the book resting on the other arm of the chair. The sound of the knitting needles clicking together, along with the constant rush of the rain outside, was hypnotic, making Snufkin almost want to curl up for a nap.

After a while, Moominmamma lifted up her knitting to examine it. It was a lovely thick blanket – in shades of rich green, with golden trim. Moominmamma didn’t look quite satisfied with it, though, merely squinting at it with a small frown on her face.

She got up and walked over to the corner of the bathhouse, where she plunged the blanket into a bucket full of water.

“Moominmamma!” said Snufkin, startled out of his peaceful stupor. Mamma lifted it out – to Snufkin’s surprise, it didn’t drip into the bucket, although it still looked damp.

“Oh, dear, that hasn’t quite done it either,” said Moominmamma, and then held it out. “Well, whichever of you like green can have it, just dry it out by the stove for a moment.”

A little creep leapt up and rushed forward to seize the blanket.

“Moominmamma, what on earth are you doing?” asked Snufkin, baffled at why she’d spoil a perfectly nice blanket like that.

“Oh, I suppose it seems a little odd from the outside, doesn’t it?” she said, going back to her seat and digging around in her knitting basket. “I’m trying to make a blanket that will stay warm and dry even underwater.”

“A blanket that will – oh. For Moomin,” he said, finally understanding. Moominmamma nodded, taking out another half-formed blanket – this one in orange wool.

“Yes, Granny has a knitting pattern for a water-proof blanket,” she said, looking down again at the book by her elbow. “But I’m afraid that only means it repels a little rain, not that you can use it at the bottom of the sea.”

“That’s quite the knitting pattern,” said Snufkin, astonished. “How does that work?”

Moominmamma gave him a funny look, as though it was a bizarre question to ask.

“I’m not sure. An old family trick, I suppose,” she said and laughed. “I can’t say I understand all of Granny’s recipes, but she was much cleverer than me.”

“Surely nobody’s cleverer than you, Moominmamma,” said Snufkin earnestly.

“Now, don’t be silly, I’m not at all clever,” she said, going a bit pink in the snout. “Moomin has been complaining of the cold recently, that’s all. I only want to help.”

“He has, hasn’t he,” he replied. “I don’t think it’s been too bad. It’s cold today, but I’d say it’s been mild at worst.”

“Indeed. But perhaps he feels things differently now.”

They fell quiet again. The woodie asleep against Snufkin’s thigh snorted, kicking its leg. Snufkin finished his hot chocolate and gathered up the dirty cups to wash them, ignoring Moominmamma’s protests that she would do it. A few more of Moominmamma’s things were in the bathhouse now – nothing major, just some pots and pans, a couple of her books. Enough to make him wonder, though.

“Are you living in the bathhouse, Moominmamma?” he asked.

“Oh, no, dear, I’m just coming down here during the day now and then, just in case Moomin needs something,” she said, adding a blue stripe to her blanket. “Although as the weather gets worse, I may spend more time here.”

“Have you seen him today?”

“Not today. I expect the rain is keeping him deeper under the sea.”

Snufkin looked out at the window, where the rain was still lashing down, the grey surface of the water thrashing.

And then he saw something leaping over the surface of the water.

“Hey, that’s Sleeky,” he said, standing (the poor woodie waking up with a start). He rushed out the door, waving his hat. “Hey, Sleeky!”

Sleeky dove under the water and rushed towards the boathouse, re-emerging where Snufkin stood.

“Hello Snufkin!” he said.

“Hello Sleeky, what are you doing out in this weather?” he asked. Moominmamma (as well as some of the braver creatures) came to the boathouse door to watch.

“Oh, I’m afraid I’ve come to tell you some news since I saw a light on in your mini-house,” he said.

“News? Is Moomin alright?” asked Moominmamma.

“Yes, he’s fine. He was still asleep when I left.”

“So late in the day?” asked Snufkin, shaking his head. “That’s not like him at all.”

“Well, he seemed tired, so I didn’t want to wake him up,” replied Sleeky, looking bemused. Snufkin supposed that living under the sea, one would have precious little idea of the time, especially on days when the weather was so bleak and gloomy.

“Well, what’s your news then, Sleeky?” asked Moominmamma, stepping out of the boathouse to hold an umbrella over Snufkin. Sleeky hesitated, looking between them.

“I’m frightened you might be angry at me for it…but I’m going to migrate in a few days,” she announced, saying it quickly, as though she may lose her nerve if she slowed down at all.

“Migrate?” repeated Snufkin.

“Yes, it’s getting too cold for me here. I know Moomin needs me, but I’m already so late. If I don’t leave soon, I’ll start getting poorly,” she said, avoiding their eyes. “And I won’t be able to catch up with Mamma either.”

Sleeky was the only creature aside from Alicia who could talk in the air just as well as in water – he was the one who took Moomin care-baskets and told them if he couldn’t make it to the surface. And Alicia was so busy, her whole day taken up with trying to find a counter-spell. Without Sleeky, they may well have days where they couldn’t check in on Moomin at all.

“Are you angry with me?” said Sleeky, after they’d been silent a long while.

“Of course not, Sleeky,” said Moominmamma, instantly. “We can’t expect you to stay if it’s going to risk your health. And we’re managing just fine – Snufkin even taught Moomin a way to talk without coming out of the water, and we’re all learning it.”

“Snufkin?” asked Sleeky shyly, looking over at him. Snufkin pressed his lips together.

“If you need to go, you need to go, Sleeky,” he said eventually, but it sounded hollow even to him.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “I’ve told Moomin, and said it was okay, but I was so worried about everyone else.”

“Don’t be silly, we’ll all be just fine,” she said. “And you can come back to visit whenever it gets a little warmer.”

“And maybe Moomin will be back on land then,” said Sleeky. Moominmamma paused.

“We can certainly hope so,” she said gently.

If Sleeky caught the tone, she gave no indication.

“Oh, thank you!” she said. “I really would stay if I could.”

“I know you would, Sleeky, don’t worry!” said Moominmamma consolingly. “If you’d be so kind, could you take a few things down for Moomin? I’ve made a few of his favourite biscuits, and the tin is waterproof enough they shouldn’t get too spoiled…”

Snufkin shook his head, watching as Moominmamma fuss around, pulling together a basket of little treats. She picked up the blanket she was working on, holding it up and frowning at it.

“That’s a funny pattern,” said Sleeky, leaning his head up out of the water to look. Now Snufkin looked closer, he noticed what Sleeky meant. He didn’t know much about knitting – it would probably be a useful skill, but wool just took up so much room in one’s backpack, he’d stuck to just sewing scraps of fabric he found to make himself bits and bobs. Yet he had never seen a blanket knitting with such a strange pattern – it was as though Moominmamma had created it by knitting a wheel outward, with all sorts of funny loops and shapes in there. It struck Snufkin as very familiar.

“Oh, yes, Granny was a bit unconventional,” said Moominmamma, before folding it and tucking it into the basket. “I don’t think it will work, but why don’t you take it down for him.”

“Under the sea?” said Sleeky, making a funny face. “Well…if you think it’s a good idea, Moominmamma.”

Moominmamma looped the arm of the basket over Sleeky’s nose, and he disappeared under the water again with a quick flip of his fins. She looked back at him and tilted her head.

“What’s wrong dear? You look like you’re deep in thought.”

Perhaps. Perhaps he had connected a few dots, but the overall picture was still unclear. If he was wrong, he might just frighten her. Or else, embarrass himself. He needed to think about it more.

“It’s nothing, Moominmamma.”

***

The rain gave way to a burst of glorious hot sunshine the next day, as though it had returned to the peak of summer. They all eagerly rushed to the beach, certain that Moomin would make an appearance on such a day. Yet no golden fin broke the waves, even as Mamma cooked his favourite vegetable stew and none-too-subtly letting the smell drift out of the boathouse and across the ocean.

Snufkin tried not to worry – Sleeky hadn’t left yet, and if anything was wrong, she would at least come up to tell them. They had a pleasant morning having a sandcastle-making contest (which the Snork won, having managed to engineer a working draw bridge out of some driftwood and string). After lunch, the others looked for shells and went swimming, while Snufkin sat and fished, looking out over the waves.

Eventually, the sun began to set, and the others slowly departed for home. He saw Snorkmaiden pause, looking out over the water with a pensive expression, even as Snork tugged at her arm and nagged her to hurry along. Moominpappa returned to Moominhouse, muttering something about work to do, and Mamma was dragged away by Mr Hemulen – something about getting her opinion on a new type of orchid he was growing.

Finally, it was only Snufkin left. He had caught a pike, but it had thrown itself about so terribly that he had let it go. He hadn’t caught anything that would make a particularly good supper. Not that it mattered - he hadn’t much of an appetite.

He was contemplating simply foraging and having a few simple vegetables for supper when he felt a tug a sudden tug on his rod. He yanked on his rod, but as soon as he did, the weight disappeared. He swung his line back towards him, and found the lure he’d placed on it was gone – he’d just finished painted that too.

“Hmph! Now that’s all that about?” he said, furrowing his brow. “Rude sort of fish, to just steal my lure like that!”

And then he felt a tug on his ankle.

He laughed.

“Hello, Moomin,” he said. The top of Moomin’s head emerged from the water, a clear laugh in his eyes. The water was moving a lot – it looked as though he was swishing his tail a great deal.

“Well, I hope you haven’t just woke up,” said Snufkin, stretching his paw out to take his lure back from Moomintroll. “Sleeky let slip that you slept past lunchtime yesterday.”

Moomintroll’s ears pressed back in a scowl, clearly cursing Sleeky’s name under the water. Snufkin tried not to seem too amused. The tips of his ears were golden too now – they’re grown long and fine, curling at the ends, almost like the fins of an angelfish.

“So, where have you been, then?” said Snufkin. “Not like you to run off without telling anyone.”

Moomin raised his paws out of the water, signing ‘Sorry’ and then he paused, clearly thinking for a second.

“More far ocean with Sleeky,” he signed, and then, with an expressive flick of his ears: “It was pretty!”

Snufkin smiled and decided to reply in sign himself. They both needed the practice. Mr Hemulen had written to a friend who was fluent in many types of paw-speak and could teach them much more. However, they were a professor - and a very busy one at that! They wouldn’t have the time to visit until next spring. For now, they had to deal with what little Snufkin could remember, and all the extra words they made up between them.

“Really?” he replied. “Why the trip?”

Moomin’s eyes glittered with mirth at this.

“Come see!” he signed.

“Now?” asked Snufkin, tilting his head. “Is it close enough to swim?”

Moomin nodded vigorously, but then paused, looking up and down, and then glancing down at himself. He then shook his head.

“Oh? Not for me?” signed Snufkin, grinning. “I suppose you were always a much stronger swimmer than me.”

Moomin lowered further into the water (not managing to hide his red face). He pointed at a little rowboat tied to the shore. Snufkin was fairly certain it belonged to that Fillyjonk with the blue hair, but the unofficial rule in Moominvalley was that one was always welcome to borrow something one needed, as long as proper care was taken.

Snufkin wandered over to inspect the boat. It was a pretty thing, well-oiled and painted red. There was a thick woollen blanket folded by the stern, and a lantern resting on the centre thwart. It was clearly well-loved, and Snufkin would need to be careful with it. He glanced up at the sky.

“I suppose it’s not too late in the day for an adventure,” he said, pushing the boat into the water with the sole of his foot. As it finally got free of the shore, he hopped in. “Lead the way, Moomin.”

***

Moomin swam ahead, occasionally pausing to turn, watching Snufkin as he rowed behind. He couldn’t row as fast as Moomin could swim, so he often lagged behind. Moomin seemed to enjoy this enormously -  if he fell behind too far, he came back to nudge at the boat and generally be a nuisance. Eventually, Snufkin got fed up and splashed him with the oar, making him swim away with a laugh that brought a flurry of bubbles to the surface.

It was beginning to get dark overhead.

“Quite far, this secret of yours,” said Snufkin, his arms starting to ache from rowing and his stomach starting to grumble.

Moomin popped back out of the water overhead, his eyes apologetic.

“Didn’t feel so far,” he signed.

“I don’t think you realise how fast you’ve gotten,” he replied. “You’re swift as a shark, these days.”

For a second, Moomin glowed at the compliment, but then it looked as though he remembered something, and his smile gave way to unease. Snufkin looked away, not wanting to discuss the matter. This was supposed to be a cheerful venture. It would do neither of them good to dwell on sad and uncertain things at such times.

A small island was coming closer – a little rocky outcrop, barely the size of Moominpappa’s veranda. Moomin swam in an excited circle around the rowing boat.

Moomin watched him, excited from the water. It was less an island than a skerry, Snufkin realised. Raised rock out of the sea – fuzzed through with short yellow grass. There were even a few trees, growing magnificently overhead, the leaves turning gold and red.

Snufkin brought the boat aground, finding a tree root curled over the surface of the rock to tether it to. He hopped out of the boat, lantern in hand.

“Well, well, this is quite the find, Moomin,” he said. Moomin swam close by, the water deep enough for him to stay close. He gestured for Snufkin to follow him.

“Walk around. There’s something on the other side,” he signed, eyes sparkling. Snufkin followed obediently, amused at Moomin keeping such a close eye on him, waiting for his reaction. It was a lovely little skerry, but perhaps not quite worth this level of excitement. No doubt Moomin had another secret to share.

The stars were bright overhead, reflected in the sea as Snufkin followed Moomin around to the other side of the skerry. He had lit the lantern for Moomin’s benefit, but he seemed to be doing just fine without it. Perhaps his new body also allowed him to see in the dark better, Snufkin wondered.

There did seem to be parts of his new life that Moomin loved, he realised. It was a comforting thought, but it also made something ache dully in his chest.

As Snufkin emerged through a thicket of trees, he spotted what Moomin was so excited to show him. There was a shack at the edge of the skerry, with a porch overlooking the sea.

It looked as though it had not been touched in some time – the walls were covered in moss and ivy, and a tree beginning to grow through the thatched ceiling. Now that Snufkin looked, he could see there was what used to be a path towards the front door – and even a path down the side of the rock, towards the sea. Perhaps there had been a little jetty built there, long ago.

Moomin looked up at him, eyes shining. Snufkin grinned back, understanding the excitement now. What a fine little mystery to come across.

“This is quite extraordinary, Moomin!” he shouted down to him in the water.

“Can you go in?” signed Moomin, the movements so frantic that it was hard to understand. Snufkin laughed.

“Oh, so this is just all for your own curiosity?” he replied.

“If you do, I’ll show you something,” he signed.

Well, that was intriguing enough to be worth the effort.

Lantern in hand, he approached the shack, pushing the door open an inch. The entire shack seemed to huff, the door kicking up a cloud of dust. It was dark inside, and sparsely decorated. A rotten wardrobe, a small bed with a thin mattress, a knitted blanket slumped across it, long moth-eaten. A small sink made of tin, with a drying rack over it. There was a shirt slung over it, grey with age, the sleeve hanging limp. Snufkin reached up to touch it, and a button came loose in his paw. Some dishes in the sink, not quite clean, with a decayed washrag slumped on top.

He wondered if the person who once lived here needed to leave suddenly. What left them so desperate that they hadn’t even the time to gather their laundry? Or perhaps they didn’t realise they were leaving for the last time – they simply left, and one day couldn’t come back.

He opened the wardrobe, sending little black spiders running. A few old shoeboxes – some boots inside. Black, indistinct. He supposed it would be odd if someone living such a rustic lifestyle was living a glamorous lifestyle. There was a raincoat on the inside hook, a few simple smocks, a squashed fisherman’s hat.

Yet, to Snufkin’s surprise, there were dresses – delicate, pretty little things, unlike the coat and the boots. A sunhat with a ribbon. Even a little pouch with some cosmetics. A little compact mirror that, were it not for the cracks across the surface, would make a nice souvenir for Snorkmaiden. No women’s shoes though, which struck Snufkin as peculiar.

There was nothing interesting in the desk drawer – an old map, one that perhaps Moominpappa may like. Snufkin folded it up and tucked it into his pocket, with intent to take it back to him. A few sewing needles and spindle of thread, tangled with one another. A piece of half-finished embroidery – a seashell, it looked like. It was a pretty piece of work, but it looked as though the maker had gotten bored halfway through.

There was a little photo pinned above the desk. Very old, by the looks of it, rumpled at the edges. A man – face too pale to be captured on such an old camera, the sea behind him, looking proud. The previous owner? He wondered.

He was about to leave when the lantern light bounced off something – a tin box under the bed, half-hidden. Snufkin dropped to his stomach, excited to have perhaps one last chance at solving this mystery, and pulled it out.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, heedless of the dirt and dust, and lifted the box onto his lap. It looked as though there was once a lock, on the front. Yet unlike everything else in the shack, there didn’t seem to have worn out with age. It looked as though it had been broken, and harshly. He could imagine some stranger taking a stone – a piece of the skerry - and smashing it open.

He flipped the lid, the hinge coming loose as he did. He breathed in a strong salty smell, of the deep ocean.

For a disappointing moment, Snufkin was certain it was empty.

And then he noticed a tiny tuft of grey fur. He picked it up, very carefully. It was silky on the bottom, coarse on the top. It looked like it might have belonged to a seal.

Suddenly unnerved, Snufkin pushed the box back under the bed with his foot, clutching the tuft of fur to his chest. He sat there for a long moment, looking at the empty box, the abandoned shack, and wondered at what a small world this would be to live in.

Moomin whistled outside, keen to know what he had found. Snufkin stepped out, slipping the scrap of sealskin into his pocket.

“What?” signed Moomin, all excited. “What’s in there?”

Snufkin forced a smile.

“What did you find?” signed Moomin again. “Tell me!”

“I’ll tell you later,” he said. Moomin scowled at him, ears flattening with irritation.

Snufkin shook his head, denying any chance for playful cajoling.

He needed time to think about a story like that before he told it. When a story has so many sad, sharp parts, it needs to be handled carefully.

“Come on, let’s see what this little secret of yours is, first,” he said. Although Moomin was clearly impatient to know more, he was also obviously bursting to show Snufkin whatever it was he found.

Moomin pointed at the flat path of rock leading down to the edge of the skerry.

“So I walk down here?” signed Snufkin.

“And then wait,” replied Moomin.

“Well, alright then,” replied Snufkin, bemused but entertained. He walked down the path, wobbling a bit (it was steep, and quite narrow), but he was used enough to rough terrain to not tumble down. Moomin watched him for a second and then disappeared under the water – it looked as though he went between the two islands of the skerry.

“What is he up to,” wondered Snufkin aloud.

There was a thumping sound from beneath him. Snufkin knelt and pressed his ear against the rock. Yes, he could hear the sound of water moving. Tunnels underneath the rock, perhaps? What an extraordinary place Moomin had found.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Snufkin began to get nervous that Moomin had trapped himself beneath the skerry, and then he caught a glimpse of something move in the water.

Out from under the island, came the bobbing figures of jellyfish, bright and golden under the moonlight. Following them, looking more elegant than Snufkin thought possible, swam Moomin. The luminesce of the jellyfish made him seem to glow too – the golden tips of his ears, the bright webbing between his fingers, and his tail. He jumped out of the water, coming back down with a splash that made the jellyfish scattered further.

It happened so fast, Snufkin was certain he wasn’t meant to see. He was certain that Moomin was trying to keep this from them. But Snufkin knew what he saw – Moomin no longer had legs or feet. His lower body had transformed completely.

***

It was only after they ate supper that Snufkin decided to ask. Moomin had caught some crabs and shellfish – freshly snatched from the seafloor – and Snufkin built a fire to grill them. It felt strange, dropping freshly-cooked food in the water for Moomin to eat, almost like he was feeding the ducks.

Moomin showed his appreciation by swimming an excited circle in the water, making Snufkin laugh.

The jellyfish were bobbing in the distance, forming a golden blur on the horizon. It was so dark, that was almost the only thing to separate the sea and the sky. They had eaten their fill, but neither quite wanted to head back to the mainland yet. Snufkin laid back, propped up against his rucksack, Moomin floating in the water, watching the jellyfish go.

“Moomin,” asked Snufkin suddenly. Moomin turned, expression cautious. The words got stuck in his throat. Talking about delicate matters was never something he was good at.

Sitting up, Snufkin took a breath and switched to signing.

“How long?”

Moomin looked down at himself, brow furrowed.

“Few days,” he signed back. Snufkin leaned forward.

“You didn’t want to worry anyone, did you?”

Moomin nodded, lowering himself deeper into the water.

“Well, it’s a nice idea, Moomin,” signed Snufkin. “But people will worry more if you don’t tell them important things.”

A flurry of bubbles rushed to the surface – Moomin had probably huffed under the water.

“Did plan to,” signed Moomin. “It’s hard though. Everyone is already so worried.”

“That’s not your fault, Moomin,” burst out Snufkin, aloud.

“Feels it.”

Snufkin hummed, contemplating that. It wouldn’t do any good to tell Moomin that wasn’t the case. Even if it didn’t make sense, how you felt was how you felt.

“Is Alicia still doing backwards magic?” signed Moomin. They didn’t really have a sign for ‘counter curse. They didn’t talk about it. If they could help it.

“She’s working on it,” he said. “I don’t know much about magic, but she’s trying very hard. I’m sure she’ll come up with something.”

Moomin didn’t reply, hiding his paws under the water.

“There must be things you like about it,” continued Snufkin, not liking the sad look on Moomin’s face. “You seemed happy.”

Moomin lifted his paws back out of the water and then paused.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes I like a lot of it. But that’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Bad? How so?”

“Everyone’s so worried,” said Moomin. “I shouldn’t be having fun.”

Snufkin threw another piece of wood onto the fire.

“Tell me what you like about it,” he signed.

“Swimming,” signed Moomin. Snufkin laughed.

“Well that’s rather obvious, isn’t it?”

Moomin glared at him.

“Different! I’m fast now. I can swim for long times. Go really far from Moominvalley,” he signed, paws moving quickly. “Underwater’s pretty. It –“

He paused. Snufkin said nothing, waiting for him to work it out. It was difficult enough to talk about personal things in your first language, never mind in your second.

“I would miss it,” he signed, finally.

Snufkin nodded, ignoring the unexpected stab of jealousy at his guilt.

“But I miss Mamma and Pappa too! And friends! And you!” signed Moomin frantically, and then dropped his paws into the water. He looked away. “A lot. It’s lonely. Sad.”

Snufkin leaned back, looking out over the vast sea.

“You’re allowed to feel both things at once, Moomin,” he said. “Sometimes things are complicated. One can find something lovely and lonely all at once. It can be rather common.”

Moomin stared at him, expression inscrutable. He raised his paws.

“I want to go home,” he replied, signing slowly and carefully. “But I want to come back. Be able to come back. Does it make sense?”

“Perfect sense.”

“I feel tired. Sometimes,” said Moomin, and then paused, as though not sure how to say something. “It’s too cold. Sometimes.”

Snufkin nodded, thinking of the cold days where Moomin slept under the waves past noon when he would drift slowly through the water, his movements listless. It was so far from his restless energy on days when the sun was high and hot.

They sat in silence, Snufkin watching the last embers eat through his firewood. He could feel Moomin watching him, but he didn’t like back, needing a moment to collect his thoughts. There was a chill in the air, and it was late. Snufkin hadn’t brought his tent or his bedroll – he would need to go home soon.

He glanced up again at the fisherman’s shack, buried among the trees.

Moomin splashed his tail in the water, drawing Snufkin’s attention.

“Will you tell me what you found now?” he asked. Snufkin chuckled.

“Hmm, not quite yet.”

“Why not?” demand Moomin.

“It’s a story,” said Snufkin. “Stories take time. And I haven’t decided how to tell this one yet.”

Moomin seemed to accept this, but he still gave him a look. Snufkin stood up and stamped out the last of the fire.

“Besides, it’s late. I need to get back home,” he said. Moomin’s ears drooped.

“Can you stay?” asked Moomin. Snufkin laughed, trying to sound careless.

“No, no, come now. It’s much too late, and you need to sleep too,” he replied, shivering in the cold.

“I’ll go with you,” replied Moomin.

Snufkin rowed back to shore, through the clouds of bobbing golden jellyfish, heading back to the skerry for the night. Moomin swam alongside him, slowed by the cold of the early morning.

Chapter Text

There’s a story here.

The question is how to tell it.

Once upon a time, there was a fisherman who fell in love with a selkie.

The fisherman was a plain and unremarkable man, but like many plain and unremarkable men, he thought of himself worthy of many beautiful things. And the selkie he pulled out of the sea was a beautiful thing indeed. So he snatched away her pelt and hid it.

“This is a favour,” he told the weeping selkie. “You have hands and feet now, you can breathe air, you can live up here with me. The land is much better than the sea.”

The selkie, unable to leave without her pelt, was forced to marry the fisherman, and live with him on a little shack in the middle of the sea. He made her cook and clean for him, as he believed a good little wife should. When he took his fishing boat to the mainland, he returned with many gifts – make-up and pretty dresses and jewellery.

“Be happy, wife,” he told the weeping selkie. “You have everything you could want.”

When the fisherman left, the selkie searched the little skerry up and down, desperately searching for her pelt. Yet the fisherman was careful never to be gone long, and as soon as the selkie began to grasp where it might be hidden, he moved it to somewhere even more difficult.

One night, the selkie could bear it no more, and she slipped something into the fisherman’s supper, sending him into a deep sleep. In that time, she searched and searched, finally discovering a loose floorboard under the bed. With a stone, she smashed the lock and retrieved her beloved pelt.

Without pausing to look back, the selkie, at last, returned to the sea.

The fisherman awoke to an empty home, and in a rage set out across the sea, determined to hunt her down and bring her back.

The house was left empty, the selkie running from her captor forevermore.

No. Let’s try that again.

Once upon a time, there was a selkie who fell in love with a fisherman.

The fisherman was a plain and unremarkable man, but perhaps that was exactly why she saw him as so beautiful.

Yet the pull of the sea was such that, the selkie knew she would never be able to resist returning if she could. So she took off her pelt and gave it to him.

“You must hide this from me,” she said. “If I have it, I won’t be able to resist the sea.”

The fisherman dutifully hid the selkie’s pelt. They married and lived together in a little shack in the middle of the sea. For a time, the selkie happily cooked and cleaned for him, as she believed a good little wife should. When he took his fishing boat to the mainland, she requested he bring her make-up and pretty dresses and jewellery. Without her pelt, she wanted to find other ways to make herself beautiful for him.

And every night, she made him promise to keep her pelt hidden, despite the burden it placed on him.

“We’re happy, husband,” she told the guilt-ridden fisherman. “We have everything we could want.”

Yet a selkie cannot escape the sea so easily.

One night, the fisherman in a deep sleep, the selkie slipped out of bed. She did not have to look hard for her pelt – after all, the fisherman could only do such a terrible thing half-heartedly. With a stone, she smashed the lock and retrieved her beloved pelt.

Breathless with excitement, she shook her husband awake. She pulled him towards the sea, determined to keep such a beautiful thing to herself, despite his pleas.

“This a favour,” she told the weeping fisherman. “You can swim with me, you can learn to breathe water, you can live down there with me. The sea is much better than the land.”

Without taking her eyes off her husband, the selkie returned to the sea.

The house was left empty, the selkie drifting at the bottom of the sea, her husband limp in her arms.

No, no, no! Again!

Once upon a time, there were two people from very different worlds who loved one another.

But that wasn’t enough. They needed to return home.

“This is a favour,” they told each other.

“The sea is much better for you.”

“The land is much better for you.”

So they parted.

And the house was left empty.

...No.

There must be another way to tell it.

...

Is this a story that can even end well?

Chapter Text

Despite his best effort, Snufkin couldn’t find a way to tell his story. He pondered it late at night, looking up at the ceiling of his tent, listening to the low groaning of the wind outside, stroking his thumb over the scrap of sealskin in his pocket. He thought about it as he ate lunches with the Moomin family on the beach, a plate on his lap, taking apart a sandwich piece by piece.

He hoped the change in weather would give him the inspiration he needed, but even in the sudden return of the warmth and sun, nothing came to mind. For a few days, they all spent a lot of time on the beach, playing together and involving Moomin as much as they could. Sleeky played with them too, putting off her return to the deeper ocean while the weather was still good.

Moominmamma went back and forth between Moominhouse and the boathouse, bringing baskets of food for Moomin and everyone on the beach.

Snufkin was sitting cross-legged, watching the clouds go by and eating a slice of coffee cake Moominmamma had brought back from Moominhouse. It was much nicer than the last cake they’d served, but still a little dry. He wondered if Moominmamma was stressed enough about the situation with Moomintroll that it was affecting her cooking.

Moominmamma, her chair dragged out onto the sand so she could watch the children play as she knitted, continued working on a knitting pattern from Granny’s book. She was determined to create a blanket that would keep Moomin warm even at the depths of the ocean

Snufkin thought about the shack on the skerry. He thought about Granny’s book. He thought about Sleeky’s migration.

He thought about many things. He had ideas that weren’t ready to be said yet. All things he was too frightened to say.

Every day, Moomin tugged on Snufkin’s boot, and would ask:

“Won’t you tell me that story now?”

Every day, Snufkin would hum, give it just a long enough moment’s thought to see Moomin’s tail lash with excitement under the water, and then say:

“Not yet.”

Moomin would pout and playfully splash him, but he’d accept it, as he always did Snufkin’s eccentricities.

For a few days, things fell into such a pattern that even in such strange circumstances, things began to feel natural.

And then the weather broke.

***

Sleeky said her final goodbyes amid the cold and rain. After summer’s final hurrah, the leaves had turned and begun to fall. Autumn was well and truly here, and Sleeky could resist the call of nature no more. He needed warmer waters – he needed to go south with his pod, seeking out tropical seas. Snufkin understood, but it still made his stomach clench like a fist.

“I’ll be back as soon as it gets warm again, I promise,” said Sleeky. The whole Moomin family was out on the pier to say goodbye. Everyone except Moomin himself.

“Where’s Moomin?” asked Snorkmaiden. “Surely he wants to say goodbye too.”

“I said goodbye to him this morning, but he said he needed more sleep,” replied Sleeky.

“Isn’t it rather late in the day to be sleeping?” said Moominpappa. “My boy’s never been one to lie in so long.”

“He’s been doing it more and more lately,” said Little My. “A real lazybones, if you ask me.”

“He really is just tired!” said Sleeky.

“I’m sure he is,” said Moominmamma. “It’s been a tiring time. Now Sleeky, you take care and make sure you catch up with your mamma. I’m sure she’s worried.”

“I will, Moominmamma. Thank you!” replied Sleeky.

She stopped to let Little My and Snorkmaiden pat her on the nose goodbye. She only looked over at Snufkin. Sleeky always looked at him so nervously, and he wasn’t sure he could look at her without seeing Moomin trapped under the waves.

Yet as Sleeky looked at him, so frightened and guilty, Snufkin didn’t have the heart to keep it up. Such things were nobody’s fault, after all.

“Take care of yourself, Sleeky.”

With that, the dolphin swam away, against the tide, following the summer sun wherever it went.

The family lingered on the dock for a moment longer, waiting to see if a pair of white ears emerged from the sea.

“Oh, he’s not coming up today!” said Little My, kicking something into the water and then seizing Snorkmaiden’s paw. “Come on, Snorkmaiden, I found an anthill yesterday and I want you to see.”

“Little My, we should wait for Moomin!”

“Oh, come on, he’s fine, you spend too much time tormenting yourself! Let’s play and check back later!” she said, tugging on Snorkmaiden’s paw.

“Yes, dear, we’ll call you if he turns up, don’t spend all your day worrying,” said Moominmamma.

Eventually, Snorkmaiden relented, and the two girls ran off, Sniff following behind. Snufkin wasn’t ready to follow them, something was tugging at the edges of his mind.

“You shouldn’t spend all day worrying either, dear,” said Moominmamma, squeezing his shoulder.

“Moominmamma,” said Snufkin suddenly. “Moomins need to hibernate for winter, don’t they?”

The question seemed to take Moominmamma aback.

“Of course!” said Moominpappa, keen as ever to talk about moominology. “It’s a time-honoured tradition.”

“But do they need to?” insisted Snufkin.

“Well, hm,” said Moominpappa, tapping the stem of his pipe against his nose. “Need? I suppose that’s a different question. I suppose one can manage it. I remember my own youth, skipping hibernation and letting my winter coat grow in.”

“It isn’t always easy, though,” said Moominmamma, her expression uneasy.  “You can get rather poorly if you aren’t careful.”

“Hm, I suppose so,” said Moominpappa. “Even as a youngster, staying awake all winter could be a rather tiring thing. Why, one winter I came down with a terrible fever. Not a good thing to happen at sea!”

Snufkin’s heart pounded faster in his chest. He tried to force himself to remain calm, reminding himself that he didn’t want to frighten Moominmamma or Moominpappa.

“Would it be at all strange if – perhaps - that still affected him now?” he said, swallowing. “The same way it does Sleeky?”

Moominmamma and Moominpappa looked at one another, and Snufkin knew right away that they had already thought of this.

“I suppose so,” said Moominpappa. “Perhaps the boy may need to hibernate earlier this year.”

Snufkin was quiet.

“What if he can’t?” he said finally. “I don’t think sea creatures can hibernate. What if it as it gets colder, he just becomes unwell?”

To his shame, no matter how hard he tried to sound mature and calm, his voice cracked and Moominmamma wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into her chest.

“Oh, Snufkin, dear,” she said. “Pappa and I are going to make sure everything is alright, you don’t need to worry.”

“No, I should help –“

“Snufkin, we know you’re a very responsible and mature young man,” said Moominpappa firmly. “But you’re still a child. You shouldn’t have to worry about such difficult things.”

“Yes, dear, let us take care of it!”

“But what are you going to do?” asked Snufkin quietly.

The two of them exchanged another glance – some silent communication that Snufkin wasn’t privy to. After a moment, they seemed to come to some sort of agreement. Moominmamma released him, wiping his cheeks with her thumbs.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” she said, cupping his face carefully. “I think we all need to meet up at the Witch’s Cottage for a chat. Can you tell everyone, Snufkin?”

Snufkin nodded, uncertainty pooling in his gut.

***

The next morning, he went to the boathouse and saw Moomin swimming nearby. He was drifting slowly and lazily under the surface of the water, almost asleep.

Unable to resist the urge for a little revenge, Snufkin crouched on the end of the dock and leaned over, giving his ear a gentle tug. Moomin jerked to life, splashing wildly, soaking Snufkin even as he laughed.

Moomin righted himself, glaring at Snufkin from the water.

“You started it,” signed Snufkin. “How have you been?”

“Sleepy,” signed Moomin, movements slow and lazy.

“Why not stay in bed?” signed Snufkin. It wasn’t as though he relished Moomin spending so much of his time sleeping, but he couldn’t help but think Moomin looked unwell. He looked lethargic, his eyes glassy and his tail moving listlessly under the water.

“Want to see you,” he replied.

“Ah, well, it’s just me today, I’m afraid,” said Snufkin, switching to spoken language as Moomin seemed to be finding it hard to focus. He sat down on the edge of the dock. “We’re all meeting at the Witch’s cottage later, so everyone else is busy getting ready.

Usually, Moomin would have a thousand questions about such a mysterious meeting, but he only vaguely nodded, staring at Snufkin.

“What is it?” asked Snufkin. Moomin looked at him a long while, slowly raising his paws out of the water.

“In winter, we are apart,” he signed. Snufkin gave him a funny look.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he replied. “Always. Why?”

“And is it fine?” asked Moomin.

Snufkin was lost. It wasn’t as though they had never had such conversations before – usually later in the year than this – but it felt…different, suddenly. As though the weight of the conversation had shifted, tilting more one way when it was usually the other.

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Snufkin. It was true. Snufkin left on his winter travels as Moomin slept, and he came home – knowing Moomin was waiting for him, knowing they’d have the spring to the autumn together.

Moomin looked at him a moment longer.

“If short time,” he stopped, scowled, tried again. “If longer time not…if go early…Sleeky…”

He shook his head.

Snufkin waited – it was frustrating, to try to express something that weighed on one’s heart in a second language, after all. Neither of them understood enough paw-speak to talk as easily as they had before, even as they both got better every day. And Moomin seemed unwell today. Sometimes one had to wait.

“If it was longer,” he signed finally, apparently opting for simplicity. “Would it be fine?”

He didn’t like the solemn look on his friend’s face – it was most unlike him. What was longer than a winter? The first few weeks of spring? Until summer? A year? In theory, a day was a day, a week was a week, they could live without the other just fine. Yet the thought of a year without seeing Moomintroll, not even once, made something dark and heavy settle in the pit of his chest.

“I suppose so,” said Snufkin finally. “Everyone must be apart sometimes.”

Moomin didn’t look satisfied with that, but he flicked his ears, forcing a smile to his eyes.

“That story…now?” he asked. Snufkin thought for a moment.

“No, I’m still not sure,” he said, and then laughed gently at Moomin’s expression. “I think you’re too tired for a story right now, Moomin. You’ll fall asleep.”

“You’re right,” signed Moomin sheepishly, and then glanced down.

“You can go rest if you want, Moomin,” said Snufkin. “I’m not going to think you’re rude.”

Relief blossomed on his face, clear as day. For a moment, Snufkin considered reaching for his paws, and then remembered he wouldn’t be able to speak if he did.

“I’ll come back and see you this evening if you like,” he said. “After I’ve been to the Witch’s Cottage for whatever Moominmamma wants to talk about.”

To Snufkin’s surprise, Moomin’s smile faltered at that, and he didn’t reply. He looked at Snufkin a moment longer, and then he disappeared under the surface of the water.

***

“A family meeting?” said Little My, as they all walked through the Witch’s Forest towards the cottage. “Since when do we do things like that?”

“Well, I think it’s a good idea, Little My,” said the Snork, adjusting his glasses. “This family could do with being a bit more organised.”

“Well, it’s making me nervous,” said Sniff. “People don’t have meetings like this unless there’s bad news. What if they decided to get rid of one of us!?”

“Yeah, and it’ll probably be you, Sniff,” said Little My nastily. “They’re probably going to tell us you eat too much of their food and they don’t want you around any more.”

“Now, that’s not true. Moominmamma and Moominpappa would never get rid of any of us,” said Snorkmaiden, putting an arm around poor Sniff, who looked horribly frightened at the idea.

“I’m sure it’s nothing like that, Sniff,” said Snufkin.

“Yes, maybe they found a wonderful counter-curse for Moomin!” enthused Snorkmaiden.

“I wouldn’t be so optimistic,” said the Snork. “I think we should all be prepared for a difficult conversation. It will do no good to go in with your expectations high and end up disappointed.”

“Snork, why do you have to be so negative?” snapped Snorkmaiden. “If it isn’t that, why are we going to the Witch’s cottage?”

“I’m a realist,” he said stiffly. “You’re just a silly romantic.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” said Snufkin quickly, not really in the mood to listen to the Snork siblings have one of their squabbles. “They’re just different ways of seeing the world, that’s all.”

Snork looked like he was going to argue, but he caught a glimpse at Snorkmaiden’s expression and dropped it. As particular as he could be, Snufkin thought, he still couldn’t bear to see his sister truly upset.

The fire was already lit in the Witch’s Cottage when they arrived, and Snufkin could see the white shape of Moominmamma and Moominpappa in the window, sticking out against the gloom of the cottage.

“Oh, they’re here already!” said Snorkmaiden, rushing towards the door. “Mamma, Pappa! We’re here!”

“Well, let’s get this over with,” said Sniff glumly.

“Oh come on, I was kidding. Moominmamma likes you too much to throw you out, so stop crying,” grumbled Little My. Sniff seemed to brighten at this, but Little My charged on ahead before he could make a fuss of it.

“Hello dears, thank you all for coming,” said Moominmamma as they entered the cottage. It was much the same as the last time Snufkin had visited – although he noticed now there were far fewer mice in the cage. And many more fish in the tank.

“Where’s Alicia?” asked Snorkmaiden, looking around for her instantly, frowning.

“Ha, she’s still asleep,” said the Witch. “She worked late into the night yesterday. Doesn’t know her limits, that girl.”

“Oh, let her rest,” said Moominmamma. “She deserves all the rest she can get, poor dear.”

“Hm, well, we need to wake her up eventually,” said Moominpappa. “She needs to be part of this conversation, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, but let’s have a cup of tea first,” said Moominmamma. “There’s no need to rush now, is there?”

Moominmamma had made a rather large pot of tea, and there was a pile of scones on a plate in the centre. The Witch was sitting and letting Moominmamma run around and do the hosting, Snufkin noticed with a prickle of irritation. He went to help Mamma with setting out the teacups and plates. Behind them, the little fish and mice were running around frantically – no doubt overexcited by so many people in the house.

“These scones look good, can I have two, Moominmamma?” asked Sniff.

“There’s one for each of us,” said Moominpappa. “If you have two, then someone won’t get one. And wouldn’t that be a shame?”

“I suppose so…but Snufkin, can I have yours?” he said instantly, rounding on Snufkin. Before Snufkin could even consider the question, he changed strategy. “What about you, Snork, you don’t like sweet things, do you?”

“Sniff!” scolded Snorkmaiden, pulling Snork’s plate out of grasp. “Moominpappa said no.”

“I’m nervous! I always eat when I’m nervous!”

“I don’t mind,” said Snork. “Baked goods are very bad for one’s health.”

“But it can’t be bad for you when it tastes so nice,” argued Snorkmaiden. “I’m going to make sure you eat it. You didn’t have anything for lunch today and I know you barely had anything yesterday besides.”

Snufkin scooped up his own cup of tea and scone and went to sit on the windowsill, a bit out of the fuss. It felt relatively normal, as everyone chattered and ate and drank, the conversation bouncing between some of the more familiar old topics – reckless things Little My had done, Snork’s progress with his flying machine, Moominpappa’s progress with his memoirs, the odd bits of gossip that had been going around the valley the past month or so (at least those that had nothing to do with Moomin’s predicament).

Snufkin had to admire Moominmamma. It was a talent, he thought, to make everyone feel so relaxed so quickly. He doubted he would ever be able to do that. Whenever the others were upset, Snufkin tried his best to be accommodating but it never seemed to quite work the same.

Eventually, there was a noise from behind them. Alicia stumbled into the little living room. She looked a bit less tired than the last time Snufkin saw her, but she still looked grim.

“Alicia!” said Snorkmaiden, waving. “Come here, I saved a seat and a scone for you.”

“No thank you,” said Alicia glumly. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Now don’t be like that, dear,” said Moominmamma, steering her into a seat and pouring her a cup of tea. “You’ll feel much better after eating something tasty.”

Snufkin looked down at his own barely touched scone, and carefully tore off a chunk. He popped it in his mouth. It was buttery and light, and Snufkin found that he did feel a little better for it. Moominmamma’s baking was back to normal – that was encouraging.

“Well, everyone’s here,” said the Witch. “Can’t we get on with it?”

“Yes, I suppose we better,” said Moominmamma quietly.

“Yes, do!” said Snorkmaiden cheerfully. “You’re going to tell us you found a perfect counter-curse for Moomin, aren’t you?”

The Witch began to laugh.

“Grandma, don’t be cruel!” snapped Alicia, so fiercely that even the Witch fell quiet. Snorkmaiden’s smile faded.

“I’m sorry, dear, no,” said Moominmamma. “It’s a little bit more difficult than that.”

They all fell quietly, focusing entirely on Moominmamma’s words.

“We’ve all been working very hard to find a way to reverse the spell on Moomin,” she said softly. “But nothing has been working. And I know it hasn’t been easy for any of us. And Pappa and I think there might be something else we need to consider as well.”

“Well, Snufkin worked it out, in a way,” said Moominpappa, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “We’d been scratching our heads over it, but Snufkin tied the last together.”

“Well, what is it then?” said Little My. “I haven’t heard about any of this, it’s no good to be keeping secrets you know!”

“Well, as you know, we moomins hibernate in the winter,” said Moominpappa. “We’re not quite built for the snow and cold – it can get a little difficult for us. And we think the cold is even worse on Moomin now.”

“He has been complaining about the cold a lot,” said Snorkmaiden, fiddling with her tail. “I don’t think it’s even been that chilly this autumn.”

“Not for us, maybe, but for Moomin, it might feel a little different,” said Moominmamma gently. “And since Moomin is a sea creature now, we think he won’t be able to hibernate.”

That caused a ripple of responses.

“So he’s going to miss on his winter sleep?” demanded Sniff. “Poor Moomin!”

“Well, of course, there’s no record of aquatic creatures hibernating!” said Snork.

“Will he be okay? Oh, winter will be so lonely by himself!” said Snorkmaiden.

“Calm down, calm down,” said Moominmamma. “It’s alright, dears.”

“Yes! We’ve thought about it, and we think there’s a simple solution,” said Moominpappa. “Rather than hibernate, perhaps all Moomin needs is to migrate instead.”

“Migrate?” said Little My, scowling. “So, he’ll go travel in winter like Snufkin? Oh, he’ll get such a big head, he’ll never fit back in Moominhouse even if we do turn him back to normal!”

“But that’s still so sad,” said Snorkmaiden. “He’ll be lonely, wandering around the sea by himself.”

“Wait, but Sleeky’s already left!” said Sniff. “Is Moomin going to have to leave as soon as it gets cold?”

“Maybe, but we don’t know dear,” said Moominmamma gently. “Let’s not worry about things that might or might not happen.”

Sniff went quiet, nibbling on the remains of his scone, his ears turned downward.

“I’m not sure Moomin should be going around the sea alone for such a long time,” said Snork. “He’s still only a little boy, after all.”

“He could go with Sleeky,” said Sniff.

“That still sounds lonely,” said Snorkmaiden, looking down at her paws. “Sleeky and her mamma are nice…but I think that would just make Moomin miss his Mamma more.”

“Well, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you all about,” said Moominmamma. She cleared her throat and stood up. The children all fell quiet, looking at her. It was rare to see Mamma look so serious. She looked at them for a moment and then tilted her chin up, taking a deep breath.

“I’ve decided that I’ll go with him,” she said.

Snorkmaiden laughed.

“Mamma, you’re a very good swimmer, but I don’t think you can swim all winter,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s what she means Snorkmaiden,” said Snork quietly. “Moominmamma, surely you don’t mean…?”

“That’s right, dears. I’ve been thinking about it for quite some time, and Pappa and I have been preparing for the possibility for a while,” she said, and then cleared her throat. “The Witch is going to cast the same spell on me, and I’m going to live in the ocean with Moomin.”

“You can’t be serious!” burst out Little My.

“So, we won’t get to see you again?” said Sniff. “That’s terrible!”

“Moominpappa, are you going too?” asked Snork.

“No, we’ve agreed I’m going to stay here and take care of –“ he glanced across all their faces, from Snorkmaiden to Sniff to Little My and then finally to Snufkin, before clearing his throat. “Take care of everything in Moominhouse.”

“Like that’s ever worked!” shouted Little My.

“You’ll be surprised, dear,” said Moominmamma, with an affectionate glance at her husband. “Pappa has been working very hard to learn all my recipes and how to take care of the housework. He’s even been learning to bake.”

“Yes, I made those scones you all enjoyed, believe it or not! I’m not just a silly Moominpappa, you know,” he said. Snufkin looked at the cleared plate in his paw in surprise – he’d have never suspected it was Moominpappa’s work!

“So you’re getting a divorce then,” said Little My, folding her arms and scowling.

“Not at all, dear,” said Moominmamma, sounding astonished at the idea. “We’re just going to have to do things a little differently from now on.”

Little My still looked furious. Snorkmaiden looked dangerously close to tears. Sniff looked as though someone had slapped him. Even the Snork looked shaken. This was the last thing any of them had expected.

Snufkin shook his head. This was silly – there must be a solution. One that was easy. One where everyone was completely happy. There had to be.

“Come now, aren’t you all being a bit hasty?” said Snufkin, perhaps more loudly than he intended. “Alicia, you brought all those books home from the library, surely you haven’t been through them all.”

“Well, no, but…Snufkin, magic doesn’t seem to work on Moomin the way it does on other people,” she said. “No matter what spellbook I use, the effects are always a little funny.”

“Well maybe we’re just not looking in the right books,” said Snufkin, and made a decision.

“We should try Granny’s book,” he said. The others looked at him, stunned, but Snorkmaiden instantly began to smile, the usual brightness returning to his eyes.

“I don’t think a chicken pot pie will help the situation, young man,” said the Witch.

“Oh, Granny’s book isn’t like that at all!” said Snorkmaiden. “Surely there’s something in there.”

“I have been looking, dears,” said Moominmamma, "but –“

“Hold on!” snapped the Witch. “What’s this book then? Show me immediately.”

“Well, you should say please, first, but alright,” said Moominmamma, taking it out of her handbag. “It’s really just an old recipe book, I don’t see what this will do at all.”

The Witch snatched it from Moominmamma’s paws and popped on her spectacles to look at it more closely. They all fell silent, all of them hardly daring to breathe.

“Hmph,” said the Witch finally, closing the book with much more care than she snatched it. She laid it down carefully and stood up, walking towards Moominmamma. Without any further explanation, she leaned in and began sniffing at Moominmamma’s face.

Snufkin looked at Little My, who shrugged. Moominmamma back into a wall, her eyes very wide, but that didn’t put the Witch off at all.

“Now that’s quite enough! You’re making Mamma terribly uncomfortable!” said Moominpappa, gently pushing the Witch away. The Witch paid him no mind, turning her attention immediately to Alicia.

“Alicia! Why didn’t you tell me the boy was a witch?”

“A what?” squawked Little My.

“Well, by heritage at least. Clearly, the boy doesn’t know his wolfsbane from his hemlock,” said the Witch, grumbling to herself. “I would have never agreed to give him that silly potion had I known that.”

“What are you babbling on about?” said Little My.

“Yes, I’m rather lost. My granny –“

“Left you her spellbook, whether you knew it or not,” said the Witch, looking at Moominmamma harder than she ever had. “It’s faint on you, but now I know to look – yes, there’s no doubting it.”

Alicia’s paws were over her mouth, eyes huge.

“So what does this mean?” said Little My. “So, Granny was a literal witch. So what?”

“Hmph, so what indeed, young lady! This is important information, it’s no wonder nothing we’ve been doing has been working,” said the Witch. “A witch isn’t meant to use another witch’s spells on themselves. When someone else’s magic mixes with your own, that’s when things start getting out of control!”

“I knew it must be something like that,” said Snufkin quietly, heart thumping. Snorkmaiden caught his eye, clearly thinking along the same lines he was.

“So now you know, you can reverse it, right?” said Snorkmaiden.

To his surprise, the Witch didn’t laugh this time. She looked rather grim.

“Oh, if anything, it just became a lot more complicated,” she said. “Working out how to untangle different threads of magic could take years, even for the Hobgoblin!”

“Years?” repeated Snorkmaiden. Snufkin slumped back where he was sitting, the breath taken out of him. He never imagined this lasting years – he assumed that it would resolve itself, if not today then tomorrow, if not then the next day. But surely soon. Surely quickly. After all, so many strange things happened in Moominvalley and, no matter what, everything always went back to normal in the end.

Everything had to go back to normal, eventually, surely? It couldn’t be possible to lose a whole world. Not so quickly, or so suddenly. He hadn’t even had time to say goodbye.

“Will you still use the spell on me?” said Moominmamma.

“Hmph, you’re the same bloodline, so it should affect you the same way,” said the Witch.

“You’re not still thinking of going through with this crazy plan?” said Little My.

“Of course. I’ve made up my mind,” said Moominmamma.

“Well, if Mamma’s going, I’m going too!” said Snorkmaiden, standing up.

“Snorkmaiden –“ began Snork.

“Please, being separated from Moomin and Mamma is just too sad,” she said, bunching her paws in front of her chest. “We should all go with them.”

“Well, I can hardly build a flying machine underwater,” said the Snork. “We all have responsibilities and lives up here.”

“I don’t care,” she said fiercely.

“You’re being too impulsive, you’ll regret it!” he cried.

“Dear, won’t you miss Snork?” said Moominmamma gently.

“Of course, but – but-“ said Snorkmaiden, looking around frantically. “Why don’t we all just go?”

“I don’t really want to live underwater,” said Sniff quietly. “It sounds dangerous, and I won’t be able to do everything I like.”

“And what about my sister, and my mother! I won’t be able to see them if I go live underwater,” said Little My.

Snorkmaiden looked at Snufkin, gaze pleading, and Snufkin again found himself toying with the bargain he’d perhaps be willing to make, whether he could, whether he would.

And he found he couldn’t – the words stuck in his throat, and he could only look back at Snorkmaiden, feeling helpless.

“None of the rest of you can go!” said the Witch sternly, her usual sly humour lost. “The rest of you aren’t witches, and there’s no guarantee you’ll get stuck the same way. You might just turn into plain old fish, and then where will you be?”

This proved too much for Snorkmaiden. She stood and looked at them, trembling, her eyes shining.

“Snorkmaiden, dear…” began Mamma, but Snorkmaiden didn’t wait to hear it -  she bolted out the door and into the woods.

“Snorkmaiden!” shouted Snork, getting to his feet. Moominmamma put out her arm to stop him from running after her. She looked at Snufkin.

“Snufkin, dear, go talk to her,” she said.

“Me?” said Snufkin, startled. Mamma fixed him with a meaningful stare.

“I can think of no one better.”

Snufkin nodded, his throat dry, and went out to follow her.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand what Moommamma meant by that look. He had, privately, always thought he and Snorkmaiden rather understood each other. It probably sounded a bit silly – he was sure Little My would laugh if he said as much. They were terribly different people in most ways. Yet he thought there had always been something of a kinship between them. They had known each other longer than they’d known almost anyone else, after all.

He followed her tracks through the wood, walking until he spotted something gleaming in the grass. Her anklet – she must have been upset to not notice it coming loose. He picked it up and wiped it clean with his sleeve, popping it in his pocket to take to her.

Following a little wind trail, he found her sitting underneath a tree, tears on her face, occasionally sniffing, but otherwise still and quiet. He came and sat next to her. She didn’t react, only glanced at him.

“You dropped this,” he said, taking the anklet from his pocket.

“I know. That’s why I was crying,” she said, wiping her face with her arm. Snufkin turned his head, surprised.

“Is it now?” he asked softly.

“Now don’t tell me I’m being silly or shallow,” she said hotly. “I’m not in the mood.”

Snufkin raised his paws in self-defence.

“If something’s important to you, it’s nobody else’s place to tell you it shouldn’t be,” he said, gently handing it to her. She took it, sniffing, and then slipped it on over her foot.

“I wouldn’t be able to wear something like this again, would I?” she said, looking at it.

“There’d be other things to wear,” said Snufkin, but he knew what she meant.

“I suppose so,” she said and leaned against him. He took his mouth-organ out of his pocket and started to improve lazily, bits and pieces of this and that he’d been working on.

An autumn leaf came loose from above and drifted down in front of them, catching on the end of Snorkmaiden’s nose. She sneezed, sending more leaves flying, and they both laughed.

“I don’t want to,” said Snorkmaiden quietly.

Snufkin didn’t stop playing but looked at her to show he was listening.

“Not really,” she continued, looking up at the trees. “Someone needs to take care of Snork. And I’d miss so much. I’d miss the trees and the breeze. And I’d be scared – I don’t think I’d be brave enough to take the potion anyway.”

“You’re plenty brave,” said Snufkin instantly, taking his mouth-organ from his lips.

“It is scary, isn’t it?” she said. “We don’t know if things will ever go back to normal.”

“That’s true,” he replied. “It might be permanent. But, if it's permanent, doesn’t that mean it will be normal eventually?”

“What a horrible thing to get used to.”

“Hm, I wonder,” he said. He looked up at the branches above them – the breeze was shaking the leaves, scattering them red and gold through the air. Somewhere, a woodpecker hammered against the bark, and songbirds sung and fluttered between the branches. A ladybug was crawling on the end of his shoe, stretching its tiny wings.

“You wonder?” she asked quietly.

“I wonder if it’s only horrible,” he said. “There are still things to enjoy, aren’t they? And we can always find ways to make things better.”

“Maybe,” she said quietly, looking down at her anklet again.

“I know what you mean, though,” he said. “It’s a very frightening thing to do. And choosing one world over another, maybe forever…perhaps it’s too difficult a choice to make.”

“But I don’t want Moomin to be alone! I don’t want to just abandon him!” she said.

“You aren’t.”

“I feel selfish!”

“It isn’t,” he said. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Snorkmaiden stared down at her paws, her whole body tense.

“In storybooks, it’s romantic to give up everything you have for someone,” said Snorkmaiden.

“What a silly idea,” said Snufkin quickly. “If you gave up everything for them, what would you ever have to talk about? You'd have no stories to tell each other, nothing to give, and you'd just be lonely all over again.”

Snorkmaiden didn't reply to that, looking down at her paws.

They sat for a while longer. Snufkin returned to playing his mouth-organ, choosing a happier tune this time. As the song ended, Snorkmaiden took a deep breath and stood, brushing grass and bits of leaves off her fur.

“Thank you, Snufkin,” she said. “I think I feel better.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much.”

 “Well, I feel much better anyway,” she said, and then offered her paw. “Let’s go back.”

***

As they returned to the Witch’s cottage, they could see Snork pacing from the window. As soon as he caught sight of them approaching, he rushed to the door, throwing it open.

“There you are Snorkmaiden! Are you hurt?” he said, and then huffed. “Oh, you’ve got a leaf in your hair, what have you been doing?”

Without hesitation, Snorkmaide dropped Snufkins paw and threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Snork’s shoulders, knocking his glasses aside.

“Really now!” he huffed, embarrassed and dismay.

“Oh, I don’t want to leave you at all!” she said. “I’d miss you terribly!”

“Calm down Snorkmaiden, please, you’re making a scene,” he pleaded.

“I’ll make all the scene I want!” she insisted. He sighed and hugged her back.

“Well, I’m sorry Snorkmaiden, I know you don’t want to be apart from Moomin like this, but…” he trailed off.

“I know,” she muttered. Snufkin stood back and looked away. After a moment, the snorks parted, and Snork carefully readjusted his glasses, tightening the strings around his ears. They went back inside, where the others were waiting for them. Moominmamma was sitting on the floor by the fire, her arm around Sniff and Little My leaning against her thigh, cutting up a ball of yarn with a pair of scissors. The Witch was flicking through Granny’s book with great interest.

Snorkmaiden shuffled forward with her tail in her paws, looking sheepish.

“I’m sorry I got upset, Mamma.”

“You never need to apologise for that, dear,” said Mamma. “It’s perfectly reasonable you were upset. I’m sorry to have to make such a drastic decision. But I’ve made my mind up.”

“I know.”

“Aren’t you people going to get out of my house?” grumbled the Witch.

“The children have had a shock,” snapped Moominmamma. “Give them time.”

To Snufkin’s great surprise, the Witch dropped the topic. Perhaps Moominmamma being a witch rather changed how much respect the Witch was willing to give her.

Moominmamma looked at Snorkmaiden and smiled, lifting an arm. Needing no further invitation, Snorkmaiden snuggled up on her other side, squashing Little My between them. Mamma looked up at Snufkin, tilting her head.  He shook his head and merely took a seat behind them, looking into the fire.

“Moominmamma,” said Snufkin suddenly.

“Yes dear?” she said.

“You’ve talked to Moomin about this already, haven’t you?”

“Yes dear,” she said. “It’s a decision we needed to make together, after all.”

He nodded, mouth dry. It wasn’t like Moomin to keep things from him – yet he supposed Snufkin kept his secrets, kept parts of himself for himself. Who was he to demand more in return?

Snufkin remembered that he promised to go see Moomin that evening. Moomin would be expecting a story, and he still didn’t know how to tell it. How could he, after all, when he didn’t know how it ended?

Chapter Text

It was going dark by the time Snufkin returned to the shore. He had been walking around the Valley since leaving the Witch’s Cottage, but he had simply had the same thoughts over and over. It was peculiar. A walk usually cleared his head, but he arrived at the shore in much the same state he left the Witch’s Cottage – uncertain, and with a strange feeling in his gut, as though he was becoming ill.

“Moomin?” he called over the sea. He expected Moomin to be waiting for him – a pair of white ears breaking the surface, eyes bright and laughing.

Then again, Moomin had kept a secret from him. When one held onto a secret, it could quickly turn into shame.

“Moomin?” he called again. “I’m not –“

Could he say he wasn’t upset?

No, not really, he decided.

“I – well! Well, I want to see you, anyway!”

In the distance, he caught sight of something glimmering – a golden tailfin breaking the sea.

“Moomin!” he shouted again, cupping his paws around his mouth.

The tail fin disappeared.

“Really now,” said Snufkin, finding himself starting to get annoyed. “There’s no need to hide away.”

He saw the little red rowboat tied up at the boathouse. He hopped into it, picking the lantern up from the floor. He wiped the glass clean with his sleeve and fetched a match from his pocket, striking it and lighting it. He set the lantern on the bow of the little rowboat and began to row, hoping the circle of light would catch the glint of Moomin’s scales. 

He rowed out and then stood, looking out over the sea. He could see a blurry white and gold shape under the surface.

“Moomin, come up here,” he said. The shape moved – perhaps looked up at him – but stayed beneath the surface. Snufkin sighed. He sat down for a moment, but it didn’t seem like he would come up. Perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps something had changed between this morning and now, and even just breaking the surface was a step too far.

There was nothing for it.

Taking a deep breath, Snufkin removed his hat and boots, and then took off his coat, folding it up and setting aside. He climbed onto the side of the boat. Taking in a deep breath, he jumped, breaking the surface of the water with a great splash. He opened his eyes, kicking his legs slowly to keep himself level.

“Snufkin!”

Moomin swam towards him, his tail pushing him forward fast. Unlike his voice on the surface, which was always so hoarse, it sounded clear and sweet under the water.

“What are you doing?” said Moomin, looking astonished.

“Why hide?” signed Snufkin quickly.

“I…” said Moomin, hesitating. “I thought you were angry at me. You looked angry, you know.”

“A little,” signed Snufkin, not having the time for dishonesty.

“I know everyone will be upset,” he said. “I’m taking Mamma away, aren’t I? And I lied.”

“Not taking –“

Snufkin couldn’t think of what the signs to use were, his chest burning.

“Not taking away – she-“

“Snufkin, are you okay?”

He tried to sign, but couldn’t hold his breath any longer. He gasped, seawater rushing down his throat and into his lungs.

“Snufkin!” cried Moomin. Before Snufkin knew what was happening, he felt a pair of arms around him, taking him upwards. They broke the surface of the water and Snufkin coughed and hacked, spitting up saltwater.

“Snufkin, are you alright?” asked Moomin, breaking the surface of the water. “Get back into the boat.”

“Moomin, get back underwater!” said Snufkin, in between rasping coughs.

“Not until you get back on the boat," said Moomin firmly. They looked at each other a moment and began laughing, Snufkin soaked and shivering, Moomin barely able to catch his breath. Snufkin treaded water back to the rowboat, clambering back onto it as Moomin disappeared back under the water to catch his breath. He stripped off his wet clothes and bundled himself into his coat and scarf, pulling a blanket over him and sitting next to the tiny fire of the lantern.

Eventually, Moomin broke the surface of the water again – just his ears and eyes above the surface.

“You’re not angry?” he signed.

“Not about taking Moominmamma away, that’s for certain,” said Snufkin. “Not that I won’t miss her. But Moominmamma is her own woman, and she’s made up her mind.”

“Then what?” he signed. Snufkin was quiet, feeling a bit small and silly. He supposed in his heart of hearts, no matter how immature it was or how much he rationalised things to himself, he was upset.

“You didn’t say,” he said. Moomin’s ears drooped.

“I wanted to,” he replied. “I tried. It was…difficult.”

“I suppose you did,” said Snufkin. “I suppose I’m still a little sad about it, even if it doesn’t make sense to be. It’s a difficult situation. And everyone is entitled to their secrets, besides.”

“Feelings don’t have to make sense,” signed Moomin. Snufkin laughed.

“That’s very mature of you,” he said. Moomin’s ears turned pink at the compliment. He nudged against the side of the rowboat.

“I will miss you,” he signed.

“It’s only a little longer than normal, really,” replied Snufkin. Was there much difference in Moomin leaving in autumn compared to Snufkin leaving in winter? It was only a few months further apart, really.

Yet it was different, wasn’t it? It was easier to leave, knowing someone was waiting, that they would be in the same place as where you left them. Leaving on his travels without knowing where Moomin was, or whether he was safe, when he would come back, whether he would come back – that was much more difficult. The promise was only in words then.

“I will still miss you,” insisted Moomin. Snufkin wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he remained quiet.

“You look cold,” signed Moomin finally.

“So do you,” replied Snufkin, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He would have build a fire and leave his clothes hanging to dry overnight. “Perhaps we should both go to bed for the night.”

No more was said as they went back to the shore. There was nothing either was ready to say.

***

It was decided that Moominmamma would take the potion on the next full moon, and she and Moomin would depart for the south that night. The entire valley was talking about it, and it seemed as though the decision had energised everyone. Somehow, the discussion of it as a thing to be done shook much of the sadness out of it, and everyone became very busy and industrious. A big change always necessitates preparations.

Strangely, Snufkin found himself drawn into it. When the family were bustling about, Snufkin usually kept his distance, preferring to luxuriate out in the sun or sit fishing by the river while the Valley bustled around him. Yet he found himself popping in, offering to help with this or that.

Pappa was preoccupied with copying out all of Granny’s recipes. The original would be kept in the boathouse, as near to Moominmamma as it could be. At first, the plan had been to separate the magical from the non-magical recipes – keeping the non-magical for use in Moominhouse, and the other for the Witch and Alicia to use in their research. Yet it turned out, separating the ordinary from the extraordinary was a more difficult task than one might anticipate, so he ended up just copying them all twice.

Sniff, Little My and Snorkmaiden were all busy trying to come up with goodbye presents for Moominmamma and Moomin. This was difficult, as it had to be something that would keep underwater and would be easy to take over long distances.

Sniff had pulled out his whole collection of treasure and was going through it bit by bit, trying to find something they would like that he could bear to part with. Snufkin turned up to lean on the windowsill, answering Sniff’s questions about what Moominmamma would like, trying to gently urge him to find something he would be willing to get let go of. Strangely, the problem seemed to be that there was nothing he was certain was good enough.

Snorkmaiden at first combed the beach for pretty shells, but upon Little My scoffing that they would have no shortage of shells began searching the forest for something instead. Snufkin followed along, pointing out pretty flowers or mushrooms, but seeing nothing that would be suitable for life underwater.

Little My was ferreting around Moominhouse, searching for goodness-knows and doing who-knows-what to get there. Snufkin left her to it.

Of course, the busiest of all was Moominmamma. She decided that she would throw a big farewell party on the beach that day, and was already hard at work, writing out invitations and planning all the delicious food she would serve.

It seemed that everyone had come to accept the enormous change that would come to pass.

It stuck in Snufkin’s throat – this broad acceptance of “how things must be”. He couldn’t rest on it.

In stories, there was always a solution. There would be a trick or a spell or something that would fix everything if only the hero was clever enough to spot it. Snufkin needed to be clever enough.

His thumb brushed over the piece of selkie skin in his pocket.

Often, the solution was something already there, just waiting to be used.

***

Snufkin waited until he knew Alicia was out with Snorkmaiden for the day, and then he made the trip up to the Witch’s cottage. The Witch made him uneasy – especially without Alicia there to temper her worse habits – but he had the sense it needed to be just the two of them. He wasn’t willing to task Alicia any further than she had been already – he saw her guilt clear as day in her face, in how tired she was, in how there was almost always a light on in the Witch’s cottage these days.

He didn’t want to knock, just pushed the door open. There were embers in the hearth, still flickering and popping through thew wood – but otherwise it was dark and quiet.

Perhaps the Witch was out for the day.

No matter – even if she got angry, he would sit and wait. This couldn’t wait.

“And what are you here for, young man?”

Snufkin jumped, smacking his elbow against the door. The Witch stood behind him, a basket full of herbs and mushrooms looped over her forearm. She looked innocuous enough like that – like any old woman out foraging on a pleasant autumn day – but Snufkin knew better than to underestimate here.

“I – I have something to ask,” he said, drawing himself up and ignoring the throbbing in his elbow. She looked at him, eyes creasing and she smirked.

“Hm, then you better come in,” she said, heading into the cottage. She set the basket onto the table and looked over at the weak embers in the hearth. She snapped. “Don’t be lazy – brighten up.”

The embers instantly burst out into a bright fire, filling the room with warm orange light. She huffed, barely impressed by the poor fire’s effort, and started taking everything out of the basket, one-by-one. Unlike the rest of them, the Witch and Alicia didn’t need to check if a mushroom was poisonous.

Snufkin stood by the doorway, momentarily frozen and feeling a bit stupid.

“Honestly, boy, I thought you were the clever one,” said the Witch, not even looking back at him. “Stop gawking at me like an imbecile and come in. And close the door. When you’re my age the cold cuts through you, you know.”

“Can’t you just keep warm yourself with magic all day?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“Hmph,” said the Witch, flicking a little spider off a toadstool. “Can you spend the whole day jogging on the spot, young man?”

Snufkin took her point.

“I suppose this is about the little moomin?” said the Witch, wrapping up the mushrooms in a square of plain brown cloth and hanging them on a hook near the hearth.

Snufkin nodded.

“I have something,” he said. “I think you could use it.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh?” she asked, starting on the herbs she’d gathered now. “And what is this miraculous object?”

Snufkin swallowed and pulled the tiny scrap of fur out of his pocket, holding it out to her. She looked at it, and for a moment her eyes widened. To Snufkin’s surprise, she didn’t take it, merely gestured for him to lay it on the table. He set it down next to an acorn – it was barely the length of it.

The Witch breathed out through her nose and swept her palm across it – cautious not to touch it – and then shuddered.

“Where did you get this from?”

“There was a shack out on one of the skerries,” explained Snufkin quietly. “It’s a scrap of a selkie’s pelt, isn’t it?”

“It’s a wicked thing to keep in your pocket,” said the Witch, eyes flicking up to Snufkin’s face. “Perhaps you’re more interesting than I thought.”

She laughed, but Snufkin just stared back at her, stone-faced.

“So,” she said, leaning back on her chair. “What do you want me to do with your nasty little treasure?”

“Make a coat for Moomin,” he said. “That way he can come in and out of the water as he likes.”

“Oh?” she said. “And you’d be willing to keep it out of your pocket for that?”

“Of course,” he said quickly. It wasn’t even a question.

He expected the Witch to laugh again, but she didn’t. Instead, she rose to her feet with a sigh.

“Sit,” she instructed.

“But –“

“Sit, boy,” she repeated. He sat down. She began working on something near the fire, making something in her cauldron. Snufkin tried to lean over to see, but he had the sense she wouldn’t take kindly to him getting off the stool, so he couldn’t make it out over her hunched shoulders and quick hands.

Eventually, she set a small porcelain cup of tea in front of him. With a huff, she sat opposite him, an identical cup clasped between her gnarled fingers. Snufkin looked at it, surprised by his own reflection – he looked more tired, more worried than he expected.

“Well, drink your tea,” she said.

He looked at her.

“Hmph. I’m not going to poison you,” she said. “Don’t think I’ve never thought about it. But It wouldn’t be worth all the fuss.”

That Snufkin could believe. He took the tea and sipped it, surprised at how ordinary it tasted.

“It’s an interesting idea of yours,” she said eventually. “Steal a selkie’s pelt to make another. You’d make a good witch, if you had the blood for it.”

“I didn’t steal it,” he said quickly.

“You found it and you kept it,” she said sharply, uncharacteristically reprimanding. “To any selkie, that’s stealing.”

“It’s only a piece,” said Snufkin, his heart hammering so hard he felt ill with it. “It wouldn’t even cover a selkie’s finger.”

“If I ripped out a piece of your soul,” she said. “I doubt it ever seem small to you.”

Snufkin fell silent. The cup clattered in his shaking paws. He put it down.

“That’s fine,” he said finally, keeping his voice steady. “If I stole it, then that’s my problem. What about Moomin?”

“What about him indeed,” she said. “If I made a coat from this little stolen piece of yours, who’s to say it would fit? And what about the selkie, boy? She’s looking for this, even now. You would keep it from her?”

Snufkin stayed quiet, ashamed by the first answer to spring to his mind.

But of course, he couldn’t. There was a difference in thinking about doing something, and actually doing it, and in this case Snufkin realised he was only capable of one but not the other. It would be a vile thing to do, even for Moomin’s sake. And Moomin was far too kind-hearted to accept it.

“There has to be something,” he said, almost to himself. The Witch sighed.

“This is exactly why we witches keep to ourselves,” she said sharply. He looked up. She glared at him, one both hands wrapped around her cane. “You all think that no matter the problem, there must be a quick solution. That magic can do anything.”

“Can’t it, though?” he said.

“Of course not,” she grumbled. “Good grief. Would there be anything difficult in the world left if it could? But oh, some of you think the world can be so controlled. There's never just sickness, there's never just famine. But there's always a witch that could have stopped it, and must have chosen not to. And there's always the stake and always the pyre."

They fell silent, the Witch looking at the fire in the hearth, suddenly sombre.

“You’re telling me to give up," said Snufkin.

“Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself,” she said, standing and taking his cup. “I’m telling you nothing of the sort. Only that there aren’t always easy solutions. Sometimes there’s work and sometimes there’s patience and sometimes there’s change for the worse. Accepting it and continuing on isn't giving up. Quite the opposite.”

She started cleaning out the cups in the washbasin, keeping her back turned to him. Snufkin looked back at the scrap of fur on the table. Lying there, amid all the bits and pieces the Witch had foraged, it looked innocuous. So small as to be unimportant. But there was a stranger out there who may feel its absence, in ways he couldn’t understand.

He took it gently in his paws, feeling the softness on one side with his thumb, the coarseness on the other side of with his finger.

“What should I do, then?” he asked, the question coming out of him unbidden. The Witch didn’t turn, barely even twitched. She just breathed out her nose.

“There isn’t a should, young man,” she said. “There isn’t a right answer. There’s just the world and what you decide to do in it. Now go back to it.”

Snufkin nodded and left, holding the little piece of fur close to his chest.

***

He went down to the shore. Moomin was waiting for him, bright-eyed despite the clear exhaustion weighing him down.

There was nothing to particularly do or say, so Snufkin just sat on edge of the dock, his feet bare in the water, Moomin close enough to brush against his leg. They stayed together like that, as long as there was enough light to see each other by.

Chapter Text

It had been a strange week in Moominvalley, the week before the full moon. Snufkin felt as though it went very quickly and very slowly at the same time – a painful wait for the inevitable, but his time with Moomin feeling as though it was going by in the blink of an eye. He wondered if this was how it felt at the end of autumn for him – when Snufkin was ready to go, but Moomin had more he wanted to say, more adventures he wanted to try.

The day before the full moon, Snufkin was at a loose end, laying out on the side of the hill, letting the autumn breeze gently tug on his hair and clothes.

Moomin had promised the whole day to Snorkmaiden, having seen very little of her lately. Naturally, Snufkin was happy to step aside and let the two be alone, despite the insistent tugging on his chest.

He understood little about romance. But he did know that those sort of relationships required more time apart than others. So he wasn’t to begrudge Moomin that time, no matter his odd feelings on the matter.

He should, really, be thinking of his story. It was natural enough that would be his goodbye present to Moomintroll. Yet no matter how hard he tried, all he could come up with were unhappy endings.

Surely that was no sort of present to give.

Yet thinking of that sad little shack, with its abandoned life…well, he would be surprised if there was a happy ending in there to be found.

He sighed, looking up the sky, when a troll's shadow fell over him.

“You look troubled, Snufkin.”

Snufkin sat up, surprised.

“Snork?” he said. “It’s not often we see you outside your workshop.”

The Snork sighed, shaking his head.

“Oh, it’s hopeless today, I’m afraid. I can’t concentrate with everyone making such a fuss,” he replied. “May I sit?”

Snufkin nodded, and the Snork came to sit beside him, despite his discomfort.

It was not as though Snufkin disliked the Snork. He just didn’t know what to say to him, sometimes. They didn’t know each other that well and had certainly never spent much time alone together. The Snork was always off in his workshop, and when he did talk to other people it was usually about science or invention, things that Snufkin knew and cared very little for. Moreover, he was just enough older than the rest of them, that it felt a little strange.

“Besides, Snorkmaiden has taken to making me get out for a walk once a day,” he said, sounding irritated at the very idea. “Perhaps if I say I’ve spent all today outside she’ll leave me alone for the rest of the week.”

“She just worries about you.”

The Snork tutted.

“Worry about me! I don’t need her to!” he said. “As the older brother, I should be worrying about her.”

“Are you?” he asked.

“Hmph, well I certainly am at the minute,” he said. “She’s gotten herself into quite a state worrying about Moomin. Even you’re out of sorts recently, Snufkin, and you’re usually much more sensible than all this!”

“It’s a reasonable enough thing to be worried about,” said Snufkin, irritated. “After all, we can’t spend time with him as we used to. And we don’t know whether this migration idea will work.”

“Oh I suppose,” said the Snork. “But I think all of you are looking at it a bit backwards. If you had a more scientific mind, you’d see the potential solution is much easier.”

“What do you mean?” said Snufkin, and there must have been something a touch too eager in his voice, because the Snork instantly leaned away, lifting his paws.

“Now,  now, I don’t have a complete solution! I can’t turn Moomin back, nor do I have anything that would help right now,” he said. “It’s just…hm…”

“What?”

“Give me a moment, I’m not sure how to say it. An example, yes, that’s the thing…”

He thought for a moment, and then carefully untied the strings around his ears, taking his glasses in his paws.

“Right now, I can’t see a thing,” said the Snork, squinting at the Snufkin. “Even right where you are, Snufkin, I can’t even tell if you’re smiling or frowning.”

Snufkin remained quiet, curious to see where he was going with this.

“Now, one could spend a great deal of time trying to figure out a way to change my eyes so I can see everything just the same as everyone else,” said the Snork, and then placed his glasses back on. “Or, one could simply make me a pair of glasses.”

“Well, it’s not as though I see what you mean,” said Snufkin slowly. “But not being able to breathe or walk out of the water is more difficult than not being able to see properly.”

“Of course, it may seem that way,” insisted Snork. “But that’s only because we don’t know what could be done yet. If one had the technology, it would seem just as easy as putting on my glasses. The only problem is that the technology doesn’t exist yet.”

Snufkin couldn’t help but laugh.

“That seems like a rather large problem.”

“Well, yes, but…the work can be done to create it,” he said. He huffed.

“It doesn’t sound like it will happen quickly.”

“Hmph! My point is that if it’s too difficult to turn Moomin back to normal completely, one can always create different solutions. Science and invention can surely find out ways for us to breathe for longer underwater so we can see him, or help Moomin get about over land,” he said, and then added. “And I suppose magic could do much the same. Even if it takes time and work.”

Snufkin stared at him.

“But Snorkmaiden would just call me insensitive for it,” he said. “I just don’t see why you all can’t be reasonable.”

“Emotions often aren’t. It’s strange, but sometimes when someone is upset, the least helpful thing you could do is tell them practical solutions,” said Snufkin, thinking carefully about what the Snork said. “Have you been working on an invention that would do something like that?”

“A little. But it’s hardly my area of expertise,” he said. “I did write some inventor and scientist friends as well, and they may look into it and come to visit next year.”

“Does Snorkmaiden know?”

Snork shook his head.

“No, and don’t tell her,” he said. “She doesn’t understand the time such things can take. She’ll just get upset if something I invent doesn’t fix everything right away.”

“That’s a very good idea, Snork. You should at least tell Moominpappa – he’s a very educated gentleman, and may know people who could help as well,” he said.

“Ah, you think? I’ve rather been trying to keep out of the whole thing,” he said. “I don’t like to deal with people who are upset.”

Snufkin nodded, standing. He put his paws into his pocket and felt something unexpected buried at the bottom – something coarse on one side, soft on the other. He took it out of his pocket – the scrap of sealskin. He had completely forgotten it was there.

Looking at the sealskin in his paws, he suddenly thought about how it could come together.

“Snufkin, where are you off to?”

“A walk,” he said, tucking the sealskin into his breast pocket. “I had a sudden idea and I need to make sure it has enough quiet to grow.”

“Ah,” said the Snork, seeming to understand this implicitly. “Well, off you go then.”

***

The valley was abuzz with the talk of Moominmamma’s departure and the party. In the morning, Snufkin helped Moominpappa carry the dining table down to the beach, while Little My, Sniff, and Snorkmaiden followed behind, all carrying chairs and tablecloths and whatever else a party needed. Moominmamma remained at home – Moominpappa had turned off her alarm clock to let her sleep in, after being up late preparing delicious food for the day.

“Hmm, it doesn’t look like Moomin’s awake yet,” said Moominpappa.

“Good! If it’s his party, he shouldn’t see the decorations until they’re done!” said Little My, stomping on the tablecloth to get the creases out.

“Oh yes, we need to make sure Moominmamma doesn’t see either,” said Snorkmaiden, settling down a box of decorations and picking out a string of colourful lanterns. “Though I’m not sure where you’re meant to hang lanterns on the beach.”

“Forget the lanterns, let’s find some shells and use them as centrepieces!” said Little My.

“If we just dig some stakes into the sand, we should be able to hang the lanterns on that,” said Snufkin.

“Oh, good idea, Snufkin!” said Snorkmaiden. “You and Sniff do that, Little My and I will find the prettiest shells on the beach.”

“Don’t forget the banner!” said Moominpappa, trying to unroll a massive banner. It read ‘SAFE TRAVELS MAMMA AND MOOMIN!’, and the plan was to stretch it out over the sea. They’d hang one side on the boathouse, although they hadn’t really worked out what do to do with the other side.

As other people from the valley started to drift onto the beach, Sniff and Snufkin had set up strings of glowing lanterns across the beach, and Snorkmaiden and Little My had collected a range of colourful shells. After cleaning and polishing each, they lined them up across the middle of the dining table. Moominpappa hadn’t managed to find anywhere to hang the other end of the banner, so had simply wrapped it around the boathouse, so one rather needed to walk about and tilt side to side to know what it said. They all agreed that you could get the gist easy enough.

The Witch and Alicia arrived next. Snorkmaiden ran over to give Alicia a hug.

“Good morning Alicia,” said Moominpappa. “Is the potion ready?”

Alicia nodded, taking a little bottle out of her pocket, filled with rust-red liquid and tied with a bow at the stem.

“It’s all ready, all Moominmamma needs to do is drink this and say the incantation,” she said, and then looked down at it. “Are you all sure?”

“Don’t be nervous! I’m sure it will all go well,” said Snorkmaiden, squeezing her paws. Little My clambered up to sit on Snorkmaiden’s shoulders.

“Yeah, you should know what you’re doing by now! You’ve been studying this for weeks,” she said.

“Oh, I know, but I just don’t want anything to go wrong,” said Alicia.

“It won’t, it won’t!” assured Snorkmaiden.

“Yes, please don’t worry. This is an exciting day, really,” said Moominpappa, stepping forward to talk to Alicia.

As they all fussed and chattered, the Witch huffed and wandered away from them, taking a seat at the table.

“Things aren’t quite ready to start yet,” Snufkin told her. She merely chuckled, swilling a finger inside a nearby glass and filling it with what looked suspiciously like whiskey. She took a sip, eying Snufkin in a way that made him feel very uncomfortable.

“And how are you doing, young man?” she said. “The little Moomin boy swimming away today and all.”

“Me?” he said, laughing. “I’m not very important in this whole thing at all.”

She chuckled to herself, adding a few cubes of ice to her drink with some clicks of her fingers.

“Still pretending as much, are we?” she said, swilling her drink. She took a long sip. “Well, that’s alright, you’re young yet.”

Snufkin neither understood what she was insinuating or what he should say in response. However, he was saved by Moominpappa shouting.

“Good morning darling!”

Moominmamma was approaching, pulling a little cart behind her laden with food. There was a huge cake, iced and decorated with plump strawberries, pies and casseroles still in their dishes, grilled fish with creamy potatoes, a huge bowl of trifle, and plates of baked goods, gleaming with sugar. And of course, bottles of raspberry juice and lemonade, wine and beers and mead. Everything you could want to eat or drink, Moominmamma seemed to have prepared it.

“Oh I’m starving!” said Sniff.

“Now, now, let’s get it all set on the table first,” said Moominmamma.

“You must have spent hours on this Moominmamma!” said Snorkmaiden, helping Sniff lift the cake onto the table.

“Yeah, how do you always manage to keep everything piping hot as well?” asked Little My, scurrying around their feet and not helping in the least. “If my sister tries to make this much food, by the time she lays it out it’s ice-cold!”

“Oh, just a few home tricks,” said Moominmamma, in her usual calm way.

With the food all laid out, the other guests began to trickle in from throughout Moominvalley. Most of them brought gifts for Moominmammma, and quite a few of the little creeps and woodies were tearful, rushing up to give her a tight cuddle, many even before helping themselves to a biscuit.

There was Mr Hemulen, giving Moominmamma a packet of seeds he swore she could grow underwater. The Inspector and Mumble arrived hand-in-hand, the Inspector promising he would keep a close watch on Moominhouse in her absence, and Mumble saying Moominpappa could come for supper any time he liked.

The Mymble arrived with her little ones in tow – all of them swarming the dinner table – and picked Moominmamma in a hug so fierce it lifted her tows from the ground. The postman arrived to say they would add a little postbox under the boathouse, so that he could put any mail for Moominmamma right there. Even Too-Ticky turned up, with Ninny in tow, to say they’d heard the word on the grapevine, and the two played music for the party.

Most surprising was Mrs Fillyjonk, who arrived in floods of tears and embraced Moominmamma tightly (Snufkin sometimes wondered if he’d ever understand friendships between adults).

When the sun was at its highest in the sky, and they were all preoccupied with chatting and eating, Little My suddenly jumped up on the table and gave a cry:

“Moomin’s here!”

They all turned to see a golden fin breaking and disappearing below the surface.

“It’s true, he’s really turned into a fish!” shouted one of Mrs Fillyjonk’s children, before being shushed.

“Is that really him?” asked the postman.

“Oh, I wonder if he’s alright?” asked a little creep.

“Why’s he so late?” muttered someone else.

“Is he tired again?” asked Snorkmaiden.

For a moment, they saw no other sign of him, and people began to wonder if it had just been some other creature. And then, suddenly, the surface of the water broke, and Moomin leapt out in a high arc, his golden fins and scales catching the sunlight as he rose, and then sending a wave of water as he landed back in. The party guests cried out in surprise and then applauded.

“That show-off!” said Little My.

“Oh, let’s go take him some food!” said Snorkmaiden, already scooping up some of Moomin’s favourites for him.

Everyone rushed to the boathouse to talk to Moomintroll, taking their food long with them. Not everyone knew paw-speak, so Snufkin found himself frequently pulled in to interpret. Although many of the questions were terribly nosy, Moomin didn’t seem to mind. He even agreed for a couple of the little creeps and woodies to take turn riding on his back (although after a while they tugged too hard on his ears and he tipped them off, chasing them angrily. They were delighted).

The party continued on for many hours. Snufkin played his mouth-organ, as the adults all opened wine and beer (aside from Moominmamma, who of course needed to be ready to take the potion later), and the children played games, most diving in the water to play with Moomin.

As it began to get dark, Moominpappa built a fire, and the guests all moved from the table to sit around it, dragging their drinks and their food (as the mountain of food had still not been completely decimated) along with them.

Moominpappa (who was now a bit red around the snout) suddenly climbed onto his chair, his glass of wine in paw (and slopping up his arm). He cleared his throat, first quietly, and then more loudly, and then louder again until everyone fell quiet to look at him.

“Dear friends and family and neighbours!” he said, voice wavering a little. “Thank you so much for coming to our little farewell party.”

There was a general clamour of approval at that. This seemed to bolster Moominpappa’s confidence.

“Yes, yes, thank you! Well, as you know, we came to a difficult decision recently,” continued Moominpappa, after the clapping and shouting had died down. “Moominmamma will be joining my son in the sea, and the two will be migrating for warmer waters. Of course, they will come home when the weather changes, but we will still all be sad to see them leave.”

The crowd let out a murmur, exchanging sad looks. There was a sniff that may have come from Snorkmaiden but (unless Snufkin was very much mistaken) seemed much more likely to have come from Little My, sitting in her lap.

“Yes, it’s been a difficult decision for us all, but – er. Well, we don’t want this to feel like a sad day,” said Moominpappa. “It can also be a very exciting adventure, after all. And all of us – Alicia, the Snork, and many other people - will be working very hard to make it so we can all be together again in the future.”

There was more whooping at that, and the Snork looked quite embarrassed and hid his face in his drink.

“So, er, yes! Let’s all have a wonderful night and say goodbye, but know it isn’t for good,” said Moominpappa and then sat down, a little awkwardly. The guests all applauded, shouting and whistling.

“Did that go alright?” Moominpappa muttered to Moominmamma.

“I can’t imagine much better, dear,” said Moominmamma.

Everyone began rushing to give Moominmamma farewell presents, and she took each and put them into her handbag. Some of them were for Moomin as well, of course, and some people had even bought presents for Moominpappa, who looked very flustered at being included in the fuss.

“This is my favourite button, I’ve had it since I was a baby,” said Sniff, presenting Moominmamma with a very faded and chipped blue button.

“Are those teeth marks?” said Snorkmaiden.

“I said I had it since I was a baby, didn’t I!” said Sniff.

“It’s very nice, dear,” said Moominmamma. “And I’d never find a button under the ocean, would I? What a thoughtful gift.”

“It’s a bit small and silly, but I brought you an acorn,” said Snorkmaiden, presenting a perfect, shiny little acorn in her paws. “This is the prettiest one I could find, and I thought you might want to remember the woods.”

“How lovely,” said Moominmamma, taking it and holding it up to her eye for inspection. “Oh, what a pretty one you managed to find, Snorkmaiden.”

“I smashed your favourite teapot and brought you the biggest bit of it!” shouted Little My, holding up a piece of pale pink porcelain.

“How clever of you. I would never be able to use a teapot underwater, and it would be such a pain to carry the whole thing,” said Moominmamma.

“What did you bring, Snufkin?” said Little My. “I bet you forgot.”

“I have something for Moomin,” he said sheepishly. He rather didn’t want to reveal it in front of anyone else.

“Snufkin has been helping us all prepare for the party and playing wonderful music besides,” said Moominmamma firmly. “That’s a present enough.”

She opened her handbag and brought out a large parcel, wrapped in what looked like many layers of bulging paper.

“Now, who would like a game of pass the parcel?” she said.

“Oh, me, me, I want to win that!” said Little My. There was a general clamour, everyone fighting over places in the circle (including quite a few of the adults) and arguing over who would man the record player.

Moominmamma caught Snufkin’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“I think now is a good moment for you to give Moomin your present, dear,” she said quietly. “I think I shall be taking the potion soon, but I’ll make sure to keep everyone occupied for a little while yet.”

Snufkin nodded and rushed off before anyone could catch him sneaking away.

He walked up towards the boathouse and entered it, descending the stone steps on the other side, looking out over the sea. He could see Moomin closer to the shore, talking to Mr Hemulen, their paws moving quickly, the rest of the party playing pass-the-parcel on the sand. How strange it must be for Moomin, to be present at a party in one’s honour but only able to take part halfway. Of course, everyone was trying their best to include him, but people seemed to all too easily forget and slip into old habits.

Snufkin sat down, dangling his feet over the water as he waited for Moomin to come over. He touched the scrap of sealskin in his pocket.

There was a tug on his foot. He looked down to see Moomin smiling up at him.

“Evening Snufkin,” he signed. “Lovely party.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Did you get many presents?”

He raised his tail out of the water, showing a long green ribbon tied to the end. Snufkin laughed.

“The woodies?” he asked. Moomin nodded, eyes gleaming.

“Well, that’s very kind of them,” he said, amused.

“A few others, but Mamma is keeping them,” he signed.  

“Perhaps you should start carrying a handbag,” suggested Snufkin. Moomin giggled, ears bouncing and bubbles rising to the surface of the water. Snufkin grinned, Moomin’s silliness infectious.

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t like to carry something while swimming,” signed Moomin.

“Hm,” said Snufkin. “It’s a good job I brought a present you don’t need to carry at all then.”

That caught Moomin’s attention, perking up in the water.

“Story?” he signed, all excitement.

“Of a sort,” replied Snufkin. “I’m not sure it’s interesting, though.”

“I’ll like it anyway,” he insisted, so quickly that Snufkin felt his hesitation melt away, turning to warm seafoam in his chest.

“Alright then,” he said, splashing his toes in the water. “Let me thing how to start it.”

After a moment, Snufkin lifted his paws and began to sign.

Once upon a time, there were two friends who found a secret in the middle of the sea.

One of the friends was bound to the sea, and the other was bound to the land. So the friend who lived in the sea could explore the ocean, and bring stories from all the interesting things he saw there. And the friend who lived on the land could do much the same. While they could only meet on the lines between the sea and the land, they could bring each other very wonderful things from both.

The friend from the sea had discovered a little skerry, hidden in the middle of the sea. On an August night, the autumn chill settling around them, he took the friend from the land to it. There was a shack, on the edge of the skerry, where the rock met the sea. The friend from the sea wanted to know what was inside.

So, the friend from the land went to explore.

And hiding inside the shack, were many potential stories. In those stories, there was a fisherman. In those stories, there was a selkie. Perhaps they were two people, and perhaps they were one person. There was a box containing a selkie’s pelt, that now lay empty. There was a bed that used to be slept in, dresses that used to be worn, a dock that used to be used. Perhaps it was love. But perhaps it was control.

The friend from the land wasn’t sure what story to tell. All he could say for certain was that a selkie had lived there. And eventually, for whatever reason, she returned to the sea, and the little house was left empty.

And he knew that Selkie stories are almost always tragedies.

Yet the two friends could choose different.

They could see love and see control and choose between them. There were borders they could live in. Even if there wasn’t a whole world, the border could be made wider and wider.

There did not have to be a tragedy.

Snufkin finished, dropping his paws to his lap, his face oddly warm and a strange sensation at the pit of his stomach he couldn’t account for. Moomin stared at him, utterly still. The sound of the party felt like it was very far away.

“Snufkin –“

“That was probably a strange story,” signed Snufkin finally, feeling unexpectedly embarrassed.

“No, I liked it a lot,” signed Moomin quickly. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” signed Snufkin, and then took the piece of selkie fur out of his pocket, switching to spoken language so he could show it to Moomin at the same time. “I found this in a lockbox under the bed. I think whoever it once belonged to – she’d probably appreciate it returned to the sea, don’t you think?”

“I think so too,” he replied.

“I’ll give it to Moominmamma to –“

Before Snufkin could finish, there was a rush of water as Moomin pulled his torso out of the water, leaning up and catching Snufkin’s paws in his own.

“Snufkin, you’ll come back to Moominvalley in spring, won’t you?” he said.

“Of course, as always,” he replied, without hesitation. “And you’ll come back too, won’t you?”

“As soon as I can,” he said. “I promise.”

Moomin squeezed his paws, very gently, just enough for him to know that he was there, and that he meant it. They stayed like that as long as they could, Snufkin marvelling at how warm and familiar Moomin’s paws were.

“It looks like mamma’s taking the potion now,” said Moomin, his voice growing faint. “We should watch.”

Snufkin nodded, and let Moomin’s paws slip gently out of his own, as he disappeared again beneath the water. He walked back to the shore, his throat drawn tight. Back on the sand, everyone watched as Moominmamma poured the potion, red and rich, into a cup. Snufkin glanced over his shoulder – he could see Moomin watching from the sea, looking so much like a little seal watching the shore.

As the residents of Moominvalley held their breath, Moominmamma drank the potion. She trembled, Moominpappa catching her and holding her upright, but she continued until the glass was empty. Alicia touched her forehead, muttering quietly to her. Moominmamma waved them away, saying something – probably asking them not to fuss. Breathing in slowly, she stood upright.

Snufkin almost expected to see something obviously magical – a glow, some immediate transformation – but she looked terribly ordinary.

She turned and hugged Moominpappa tight. For a moment it looked as though he might not let her go. And then his grip relaxed, and she stepped away, turning towards the sea. Her expression set, she walked towards it, the water washing over her toes, and then up to her knees. Soon, she was up to her neck in water, her fur floating around her. She had her eyes closed, chanting the incantation Alicia had taught her.

The crowd on the beach held their breath.

Moominmamma looked towards Snufkin and smiled.

A wave washed over her, and she disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Moomin disappeared under the surface of the water as well.

“There, they’re there!” shouted someone on the shore.

On the horizon, Moomin and Moominmamma’s heads had emerged again from the water, her arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders. Even from so far away, the joy was clear to see.

Pausing only to glance back and wave, mother and son disappeared into the waves.

***

Spring came and went in Moominvalley. Things were not back to the way they were.

And yet, despite that, how normal it all felt!

Moominpappa hosted tea parties on the veranda, serving his homemade bakes to all the people of the Valley who wanted to pop by. Sniff, now living in Moominhouse full-time, was often seen rushing around the valley, inviting people to this and then, gossiping with the neighbours and talking about the strays that were staying in Moominhouse this week or the next.

Mr Hemulen’s friend, the sign language expert, had arrived in the Valley and taken up residence in Moominhouse. They were only too enthused to have space to continue their research, teaching it to any resident of the valley who was interested. It came to a point where the family could have whole conversations over dinner in sign, without even pausing to think about it.

Moominpappa’s old friend Hodgkins moved into the valley, taking up residence in Moominhouse. He and the Snork would often be seen together, debating the finer parts of mechanic or science, as they worked on some secret project. More and more often, Snorkmaiden also spent time in the workshop with them.

For Snufkin, little had changed. He slept in the tent by the river, looking up at Moominhouse. He wandered up and around the Lonely Mountains.

And, sat on the steps of the boathouse, he played his mouth-organ and waited.

It was a fine morning, the first of the summer, after a long and mild spring. The daffodils had wilted away, and the swallows were already waiting for their eggs to hatch. In their place, the lilacs had blossomed around Moominhouse, and sunflowers had sprouted on the hills overlooking the coast, bright and tall in the summer sun.

Snufkin was playing a new tune, something that he’d woken with that morning, his hat on his lap and the warm sun on the back of his neck.

And, out over the horizon, two golden creatures were swimming towards the shore.