The song wakes him before the Spring. That's the way Moomin likes it; Spring doesn't matter before the song. But the notes are creeping in beneath his window, and when he awakes, it is with a flurry of excitement.
Snufkin, he thinks, barely taking the time to splash water on his face.
Snufkin, he makes a quick lap of the house, kisses Mama's cheek without stopping, barely managing to squeak a greeting in Papa's direction.
Snufkin, he nearly trips over Little My, runs backwards as he apologizes, trips again and finally makes it to his window.
Snufkin!
The name fits in his mouth like candied fruit, and as he climbs down his ladder, he shouts it for the simple joy of shouting it. Another tumble, and Moomin is rocketing across the lawn, barreling down the hill towards the little bridge where he can just barely make out a spot of green. Most everything is green now, of course. He likes to think that the Spring copies Snufkin rather than the other way around. The world would be a much better place if more of it copied Snufkin.
He calls out to him again, reminds himself that his friend does not like hugs. No matter how badly he wants to, he mustn't pick him up and twirl him and tell him how badly he missed him. And so instead he runs to the bridge, hoping to let the exploding energy out through his legs, breath panting as he clasps the rail, giddy as giddy can be.
Finishing on a lovely note, Snufkin pockets his mouth organ, legs swinging in the clean air. And he smiles, the way that only Snufkin can smile, and his eyes crinkle, the way only Snufkin's eyes crinkle, and Moomin's heart goes "ba dub ba dub ba dub" the way one's heart always does upon seeing their best friend.
"Hi, Moomin." Snufkin tilts his head into the smile, and static electricity makes all of Moomin's hair stand on end. It's almost the same feeling as the Groke, that buzzing, nervous energy, but he isn't nervous at all, just a bit lightheaded from the run. He is glad for his name, for the way it sounds when Snufkin says it. Everything sounds better when Snufkin says it.
Hurriedly, trying not to seem too impatient, Moomin climbs onto the banister, sliding beside his friend, his very best friend, knot in his stomach untying itself at the knowledge that they have another year together.