Chapter Text
Deep inside the dark forests of the Moominvalley, a house stays still like an iron statue. But it’s far from looking like a statue, though; in fact, it had started to decay. The garden wasn’t any good either, where the overgrown weeds and harmful pests roamed around in the garden because of neglect. At least the bugs kept their distance from the house, as if they didn’t wanted to disturb the Mymble Family’s grief with their annoying presence.
If a stranger ever happened to wander inside this cold forest and stumbled upon this house, they would never think that this house once made this forest feel more friendly and welcoming by the joyful and chaotic nature of Mymbles.
Snufkin was sitting in front of the door. With a stick on his left hand, he was poking the snow. It was still windy outside after the snow storm from last night. Despite this, Snufkin didn't wore his coat of his scarf. The usual gleam in his eyes were replaced with a dull, somber gaze.
Joxter entered Snufkin's eyesight. He was slowly approaching to house with an armful of huge wood chunks. He was rather slow, so slow that he was just stepping forward instead of walking. But it wasn't that slow either.
When Joxter came in front of the door, he looked at Snufkin. Joxter's gaze had the same kind of dullness as Snufkin's. Snufkin didn't bothered to look at his father. After a short silence, Joxter spoked with his low voice.
"Why aren't you wearing your coat?"
"Does it matter?"
"You'll catch cold."
Snufkin looked at Joxter this time. Joxter didn’t raised his voice. They exchanged another small silence (Snufkin realized Joxter's eyebags for the first time), and it was Joxter again who broke it.
"Don't be late to dinner like the last time."
Snufkin wasn't startled by the loud creak of the door. He grabbed a small amount of the powder-like snow, and watched it melt in his hands. The wind blew harder this time, both freezing his wet hand and blowing his hat off. He quickly grabbed the tip of his hat before the wind took it. Mymble called out Snufkin for dinner ("Snufkin, the dinner is ready! Don't be late!"), instead of going to the woods, he went inside the house. He couldn't act selfish as if he was the only one who's grieving, he thought.
Snufkin was greeted by the warm smell of the mushroom stew Mymble just cooked. He was startled by the fact that this warmth made him slightly feel comforted, something he didn't felt since his last travel, he missed the freeing aspect of these journeys.
Mymble was humming a melody while pouring the stew in the plates. The optimism of Mymble annoyed everyone (except for Snufkin). After all of this, she still acted like none of them happened, as if Mymblemamma didn't even existed in the first place. But her optimism was more of a desparate distraction rather than a "Moomin Family" type of optimism. Her smile was dull, just like the look in her eyes.
After Mymble put everyone's meals in their plates, she sat down to her chair, which followed by a heavy silence. The absence of Mymblemamma had a stronger presence compared to everyone else in the room. No one was touching their plates except for Mymble. After a while, Joxter slowly put the spoon in his mouth. Mymble used this opportunity to break the pessimistic silence.
"So," she started. "Did you like the stew?"
After a short silence, Joxter mumbled the word "Yeah…" Again, this is followed by another heavy silence that lasted till the end of the dinner.