Little My fell on purpose. Really, she did.
What brave explorer wouldn't when being chased by a pack of fearsome tigers ready to gobble you up? Even in her own imagination she didn't steer clear from the blunt force of her own logic, so fall she did, tumbling down the hills of the forest.
However, Little My did not fall into the bramble bush on purpose.
This is an important distinction to make, one she tried and failed to make to Sniff when he found her yelling and covered by ropey vines, but it can be hard to share a long winded form of logic with someone who can't find anyone in hide and seek unless they open their eyes while they count down from ten, (Which he refuses to admit but she swore she saw him do it last week, and her word alone was enough to convince herself.) so she didn't mind, really, especially since he was the one to help her walk back to Moominhouse as the valley darkened into night.
With a bandaged left leg from Moominmama and a, "Oh dear, that must have hurt awfully bad." from Moominpapa she was sent up to the guest room to spend the night. And up to the guest room she went.
Before Little My could even have a second to think about anything, like how her scratched legs freshly swabbed clean with an alcohol soaked cotton pad still stung badly, and how she wished she had asked for another cup of lemonade from Moominmama, she heard Snorkmaiden knocking at the door.
She knew it was Snorkmaiden not because she could see her, but because there was a particular way the girl knocked, she only tapped her fist against the door instead of giving it a firm rap with her knuckles, as if she was afraid doing so would hurt the door's feelings.
"Come in." Little My shouted, and to her not-so-surprise it was Snorkmaiden who entered.
"Mama told me I should help you brush your hair before you bathe." She chimed, approaching the small, old, and round enough to be called round table that Little My was standing on.
"My hair?" She quirked her eyebrow, unsure if she was more offended by the fact that Moominmama thought she needed help having her hair brushed, (Which she did) or the fact that Moominmama thought she needed to have her hair brushed in the first place (Which she also did).
"Yes, your hair, I know you heard me right, Little My, now sit down so I can do it."
"Absolutely not."
Snorkmaiden huffed, shaking her head. "I don't see why you're so opposed to this."
"I don't see why my hair needs any attention, I've already gotten my injuries taken care of, haven't I?" Little my retorted, stomping her foot on the table. Snorkmaiden's chest rose and fell with an exasperated sigh, "Oh, please, Little My," she sat down at the table, staring up at the girl in front of her for the first time that she could remember.
"Mama's already drawing a bath for you, and it's not good to brush your hair when it's wet, you know, you might -"
"Why would I brush it when it's wet?!"
"Well when are you going to brush it?"
Little my rolled her eyes, seeming to do so less as an immediate response and more as a way to show Snorkmaiden just how angry she was. They stared at each other, Snorkmaiden frowning and Little My seething.
"I'll let you have my dinner rolls for the rest of the week if I can brush your hair just this once."
"Two weeks."
"Oh, that's just -"
"Two. Weeks."
"One week and a half."
"Deal."
This was a decision. Little My would never tell you if this was a good or bad decision, if you asked her about it she'd probably deflect and turn to a different topic rather than risk the chance of the question getting even a little bit answered, so we'll just call it as it's default; a decision.
"Ack! It feels like you're pulling it out more than you're brushing it, won't you be more careful?"
Little My had sat down on the table top, assuming a careful criss cross applesauce (to put the pose eloquently) which she now regretted as she struggled to keep balance, her head snapping back sharply towards Snorkmaiden, the comb held in a silky white paw snagging on a particularly nasty snarl.
"It isn't my fault you've gone so long without having your hair brushed," The comb wielding girl huffed and plucked a stick out of her hair, placing it down onto a growing pile on the table.
".. When was the last time you had your hair brushed?"
Little My rolled her eyes again, this time with less vitriol because Snorkmaiden couldn't see.
"When Mymble Jr. made me, why?"
"Well … Why don't you do it?"
"Why should I?"
Snorkmaiden squeezed her eyes shut, pausing her combing to take in a steady breath. Handling Little My was a task on it's own, handling both her and her hair was something else.
"Doesn't it make it harder to wash it?"
"No, and I don't see why you keep connecting the two."
"But don't you take your hair down to wash it?"
"'Course not, it's easier to wash it in a bun than any way else."
Snorkmaiden opened her mouth to form a sharp response as to why that certainly was not normal and was frankly foolish of Little My to refer to as normal, but as the situation in which they had placed themselves began to set in she closed it.
She had never seen Little My without her hair tied into a bun.
With anyone else this wouldn't matter. She couldn't recall the last time she had seen Snufkin without his hat, or if she had ever seen him without his hat in the first place, and that didn't matter to her and it certainly didn't matter to Snufkin, but Little My was a particular type of person.
Little My tattled on you to Moominmama if you took an extra pancake at breakfast without asking and kicked dirt in your face if you dared to touch her tail and she bit you if you said something that could even borderline as rude towards her. And she never, never, took her hair out of a bun unless, apparently, at her family's pleading request.
And Little My had taken her hair out of a bun for Snorkmaiden to both see and touch in exchange for a week and a half of supper with two bread rolls.
She had traded a piece of herself that many didn't get to witness for some extra pieces of bread.
And that changed the situation in a way that she hadn't been prepared for and that she didn't understand and that she didn't know if she was able to understand, and not to mention -
"Now why've you gone quiet? Don't tell me you're crying again." Little My spoke with a sharp tone that broke up her thoughts.
Snorkmaiden simply sighed and shook her head with another stroke of the comb. There was a slow silence before she finally spoke up.
"Why don't you brush your hair, really, Little My?"
"Why should I?" She repeated. Snorkmaiden bit down on her lip before speaking back up.
"Wouldn't you like to take care of how you look?"
Little my paused, then shrugged. "No, I don't see how it would gain me anything."
"Not even to make yourself feel pretty? That's why I comb my fur. And why I put rouge on in the morning. It's why I do a lot of things, I think."
"Ha! To make me pretty? Imagine that."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Snorkmaiden couldn't say she didn't expect the response Little My had given her, but it still poked at her in the wrong sort of way.
"No one thinks I'm pretty and if that's how it'll be then I'll keep it that way, plain and simple, Snorkmaiden." Little My replied with a tone of triumph, as if she had cracked the code of attraction.
"And how could you know that?"
"No one's ever told me."
"What if I told you?"
"Pah! You wouldn't."
"I would!"
"No, you wouldn't."
"Yes I would!"
"Never."
Little my whipped her head around to face Snorkmaiden with a sneer, shoving the thick curls of hair that had moved to cover her face behind her ear. "Never, ever, ever, ever! You're not a liar, Snorkmaiden."
With white paws curled around the comb and shoved firmly into her lap, Snorkmaiden leaned forward. "That's exactly why I would tell you, you know."
Little My hopped to her feet, standing just a bit taller.
"Then say it, why won't you."
"You're beautiful, Little My."
The room fell into a stagnance.
Besides, of course, the hitch in Little My's breath.
Turning away, she assumed her previous sitting position, and after some time of just sitting, Snorkmaiden continued to comb as if there hadn't been any tonal shifts in their conversation.
"It's not really fair." She spoke up after a minute. "Mm?" Snorkmaiden encouraged.
"You said you would call me pretty and then you said I was beautiful, that's not fair."
"You said it best yourself, Little My."
"How did I say it?"
Snorkmaiden set down the comb beside the neat pile of leaves and sticks that were once in Little My's hair. She smiled. "You're not a liar, Snorkmaiden, bla bla bla!" She spoke loudly and nasally, not certainly a good impression of the girl above her, but one that would certainly get on her nerves. (Which was the whole point of it in the first place, so the more inaccurate the better, really)
"I really ought to bite you for that!" Little My roared, swiveling around and baring her teeth only for strands of hair to get caught in her mouth.
And Snorkmaiden giggled.
And Little My snorted.
And before they could bicker any longer they erupted into laughter, which only subsided when Moominmama walked in to tell Little My that if she waited any longer her bath would get cold.
The very next day when the afternoon had just begun and the summer sun was shining they sat beside each other, alone on the beach in their bathing suits, for Sniff had gone for an early lunch and Snork didn't know how to swim and Snufkin couldn't find his swim trunks and Moomintroll was helping him look for them.
And while Snorkmaiden sifted sand through her paws in search of seashells Little My reached up and untied her hair.
And they stared at each other.
They stared at each other in a way that girls who are just friends would never stare at each other.
And Little My dived into the water.
And Snorkmaiden joined her.