Chapter Text
It had been raining for an entire week.
It hadn't stopped when night had fallen, or when the sun had risen again or when the creatures of Moomin Valley were soaked to the bone or when Moomin Mama began hanging washing on the bannisters to dry instead of outside.
And for these seven days, Snufkin had sat in his sopping tent.
All he had been eating was fish he had dried at the beginning of spring.
He wished he had pitched his tent under a tree instead of his normal spot next to the river, which was swollen and grey with disturbed silt and debris.
Hopefully, the water wouldn't reach the tent while he was sleeping and quietly wash it away.
He sighed.
Maybe it would take him somewhere dryer.
Moomin had been around every day, fur soaked from the short walk.
"Please Snufkin," he said imploringly on the seventh day, slouched and resigned.
His gaze drifted around the soaked-through tent, landing on the wet bedroll.
He frowned even harder.
"Please come stay in Moomin house. You'll catch your death out here! If you miss being outside, you can just sit on the porch for heaven's sake!"
No matter how much Snufkin's heart had squeezed at the thought of taking tea with Moomin Papa in the living room, listening to one of his tall tales on the comfortably worn sofa, or washing dishes after dinner at the sink with Moomin Mama, her kind and knowing gaze resting on his face as she dried.
No matter how much his belly fluttered at the thought of curling up with his Moomintroll on the sofa or in his warm, soft bed, holding him close and smoothing down his ruffled fur.
No matter how much he yearned and wanted, he shook his head.
"I'll be fine Moomintroll. It's perfectly dry in here, besides, the cards tell me the rain will let up soon, and I have plenty to eat."
Snufkin wasn't about to mention the fact that the only thing he had to eat was fish, let alone that the cards had been forecasting a terrible rain for a long time, and it was very unlikely to cease any time soon.
Moomin's eyes were mournful as he bid Snufkin farewell, turning to exit the tent.
Snufkin tried very hard not to rise from his spot on his bedroll and rush to the troll.
As Moomin left the tent, he uttered a downtrodden "I wish you good luck, Snufkin" before disappearing into the downpour.
With Moomin gone, a large rift had opened in the small, dimly lit tent that Snufkin didn't like very much at all.
He sat there, straining to hear Moomin's footfalls over the torrent outside, but even his mumrik ears couldn't find them in the cacophony.
As if Moomin was a ghost, or a figment of his imagination, appearing and then disappearing soundlessly in one fell swoop.
Snufkin suddenly felt very tired.
As he rose to blow out the lamp, he noticed a small bundle by the tent entrance.
Shuffling over and picking it up, he realised that it was a stack of thick, cosy blankets.
A lump formed in his throat.
Moomin must have dropped them there while he was distracted.
He was never very good at meeting Moomin's eye when he refused him something.
Blowing out the lamp, Snufkin grimaced as he peeled his damp blanket from his bedroll.
Spreading one of the blankets over it, he lay down, pulling the rest onto himself.
They were blessedly dry and warm, and when he inhaled he instantly relaxed.
They smelled of his Moomin.
-
He dreamed of sunshine.
Of glorious skies with fluffy white clouds whipped like meringue and fields filled with brightly coloured flowers.
He dreamed of his friends setting up a picnic or flower picking or swimming in the sea.
He dreamed of warm summer nights with crickets chirping as they all lay under the stars, of games in the afternoon, tag and hide-and-seek.
He also dreamed of Moomin.
Moomin laughing in the salt spray, Moomin glaring at Little My as she cackled, Moomin turned to Snorkmaiden as she shared a secret.
He also dreamed of them alone, laying under a great oak in the forest in the late afternoon, playing his harmonica for a sleeping Moomin.
Them taking a hike in the Lonely Mountains, holding paws as the trail thinned out and became more dangerous.
Curled together on Moomin's bed, heads in the crooks of each other's necks, Snufkin closest to the door.
Protecting.
Snufkin woke up blushing.
--
When Snufkin had finally surfaced fully from the haze of his pleasant dreams, he realised that the sunlight he had been expecting to see filtering through the crack under the tent opening was absent.
Also- his tent was moving.
Wait- what?
Snufkin shot up.
Maybe his abstract worries of the river rising to wash him away had been realised?
No, the sound of the rushing water he could sift out from the crashing sound of the rain was becoming harder and harder to hear.
Surely, the tent would have collapsed if it was removed from the ground?
A thought suddenly struck Snufkin in the haze of fight or flight that had taken over his mind.
Someone must be carrying it- deliberately making sure it didn't collapse.
A violent jostling of the tent made him fall backwards.
With this information, the disorientation from sleep had fully cleared.
Snufkin stood, readying himself to tear open the tent and run away as fast as he could.
But at the exact moment he was about to pounce, he felt what must have been whatever creature was carrying him go up some sort of stairs.
The panic already coursing through his veins was multiplied tenfold.
There was no more time, Snufkin needed to act now.
Tearing a hole in the tent- all his brain being able to process being forward now- and leaping blindly, he was unexpectedly met with something warm and fluffy.
The soft thing wrapped around him and Snufkin began to struggle as hard as he could, sinking his claws hard into the creature.
"OW!" The creature yelped, trying now instead to fling Snufkin off him, but Snufkin held himself steady.
"Shut the door!" The creature yelled, assumingly to its tent-stealing companions.
Snufkin had to be quick.
Detaching himself from the creature and leaping off it, he began sprinting in the direction he had come with the tent.
Just as he got there, the polished oak door slammed shut and Snufkin's heart sank.
It was dark in the room, the only source of light a candelabrum on a small table.
"Calm down you big baby!" A voice- most likely belonging to the one who had slammed the door- barked.
Wait.
He knew that voice.
Snufkin's overwhelming fear and panic were quickly replaced by a red-hot anger.
"Little My, what in the blue blazes do you think you're doing!" He screeched, voice squeaking embarrassingly high.
"What do you think we're doing? Keeping you from dying of pneumonia because you want Moomin to think you’re invincible!”
Snufkin hoped that his blush might be attributed to how angry he had become, as he whirled around.
Sniff cowered at his fierce stare.
"I'm sorry, really! Little My made me!"
"And you, Moomin Papa? What's your excuse?"
Moomin Papa seemed startled to have been mentioned, but quickly tried to hide it behind his usual bravado.
"You couldn't stay out there, my boy! You would have frozen to death! Why don't you stay here?"
Well.
Snufkin knew for sure now that he was in Moominhouse.
If he hadn't been so panicked, he would've noticed sooner.
All the silhouettes of the table, the stairs and the sofa couldn't have been more familiar.
Little My decided then to chime in.
"He wanted to be a part of the 'rescue'."
She grumbled, making air quotes with her fingers.
Moomin Papa sputtered and placed a hand on his heart.
"Now you see here My-"
He began, but was promptly ignored.
"Moomin wouldn’t stop sighing and staring out the window all forlorn and it was really starting to get on my nerves!"
Suddenly, footsteps were heard above them.
All the yelling and crashing around they were doing must have woken Moomin and Moomin Mama, who, Snufkin thought he could quite safely assume, were not involved.
"Moomin Papa? Good heavens, what is going on down there?" Moomin Mama appeared then at the top of the stairs with Moomin in tow, looking bleary-eyed and confused.
As they ascended the stairs, Snufkin could see Moomin's eyes go wide, surprise flooding his sleepy face.
Maybe later, Snufkin and Moomin could sit, pressed together on the bridge near the house or the porch and laugh about the absurdity of the situation- but not now.
Snufkin's blood didn’t feel like it would ever cool.
Moomin pushed gently past a confused Mamma and walked briskly over to him.
Snufkin's thunderous expression didn't seem to deter him at all, and the closer he got the more stupid Snufkin felt to be glaring at him.
"Snufkin? What are you doing here so late? And Sniff, Little My,"
He said, turning, "What are you doing here? What's going on?"
Despite himself, Snufkin blushed a little remembering Little My's words.
As he turned to her and Sniff, she smirked at him.
The glare that had eased since Moomin had appeared darkened again, but it was too late.
Little My had seen everything she needed to.
Snufkin grit his teeth.
"That's a question you should be asking these three."
Snufkin spat, the tension in his shoulders momentarily loosening so he could wave an arm vaguely in My, Sniff and Moomin Papa's- who had crept up to Moomin Mama in the commotion and was explaining the situation- general direction on the other side of the room.
Snufkin did realise he probably looked quite silly waving his arms around and scowling at everything, but he had a right to be angry; he had been kidnapped by his own friends!
Snufkin huffed and crossed his arms.
Moomin turned, frowning at the motley crew opposite, putting his fists on his hips.
Little My rolled her eyes, Sniff avoiding eye contact completely.
“What do you think we were doing?” Little My asked, mirroring Moomin’s stance.
“We were keeping your dumb boyfriend from drowning in his sleep!”
Moomin’s face lit aflame and Snufkin glared at My even more fiercely, trying to ignore the squeezing of his heart at Moomin’s reaction.
Could she not be more compassionate, with how obviously wildly uncomfortable Moomin was?
“I can handle myself!” Snufkin really couldn’t believe this.
He didn’t need to be babied, he was a completely self-sufficient mumrik.
“Stop being stubborn you idiot!” Little My yelled, waving her arms around.
She opened her mouth to speak again, but Mamma cut her off.
“We know you like to feel free, Snufkin, but are you really any freer in your tent than in the house when it’s storming like this?” She said gently, clasping her paws.
“And it’s so late,” She crossed the room to him, “won’t you stay and sort this all out in the morning?” She put her hand on his shoulder.
With Moomin Mama’s touch, Snufkin felt the weight of the last week settle on his shoulders.
Seemingly aware of this, Moomin Mama began to lead him up the stairs.
Moomin Mama’s kind but firm gaze couldn’t be contested.
“Now, you can take a nice hot bath and I’m sure we’ll have some clothes you can wear. Oh, Moomin dear, would you light the fire? We’ll need hot water of course.”
Turning her head over her shoulder she called from halfway up the stairs “Sniff, My, would you get everyone a warm glass of milk, please? Papa, would you find those clothes for Snufkin? Oh dear, It’s amazing luck that you haven’t already caught a cold!”