The taste of iron was strong against his tongue, filling his senses. He tore into them, chunks of flesh beneath his claws. He considered maybe this was some innate anger coming out against those who had not directly harmed him, a fire burning inside of him yearning for revenge on those that wronged him.
These humans had done no such thing. They had not been as bad as Them by a long stretch. But they had threatened him. Had made the boy pull back with alarm in his wide eyes for the things they could do. And the sight alone had been enough to make the blood run hot in his veins.
Had he encountered them mere weeks ago he would probably have been too weakened to fight them. But now he had no such qualms. His old wounds ached in a distant way, throbbing when his rapid movements aggravated them but not enough for him to hold back. He was fed and strong and angry – and hurting them felt good. They ran away before he could kill any of them, but he had made them all bleed.
The one who had approached first remained the longest, lifting their blade with trembling hands even as their men fled in horror. He watched them slash at the air widely, panicked and blinded by their own rage. He wrapped his hands around their throat and squeezed until they flailed with all their limbs, blade falling out of their loosened grip and coughing up air. Only when their lips turned blue did he let go, left them to lie prone and motionless.
He approached the boy, who was lying on his side in the grass. The fall had given him a wound on the back of his head that leaked red, and his eyes were closed. He picked him up easily, noticing how he weighed next to nothing compared to himself. The sky was growing dark, and the humans might be back so he set off into the twilight, ignoring the rapid beating of his runaway pulse.
He had not been scared for himself. Had not known fear since Their cages. But maybe he had been scared for the boy.
And that was such a silly thought.
Snufkin was aware of the pounding headache before anything else.
Long ago, what must have been several years in the past, he had run into a door. He couldn't recall exactly how it happened, maybe his embarrassment had led him to try and erase the memory from his mind. All he knew was that he had been in the Moominhouse and afterward, his friend had fussed over him with ice wrapped in cloth while a considerable bruise formed on his forehead.
The pain he felt right now was much worse than what he had experienced then.
It was a dull ache, but relentless in its effort to thump in tune to his heartbeat. Snufkin screwed his eyelids closed tighter for a moment before opening them slowly. There was a canopy of leaves above him, muddled colors of red, yellow and orange that sharpened gradually. He became aware of how warm it was, despite it clearly being late at night as evidenced by the thin slivers of sky he could see through the treetops. He tried to sit up, but this only made the pain worse.
He turned over onto his side instead, and watched the fire that Joxt had clearly kindled while he was unconscious. He did not see the man anywhere near, but assumed he was out searching for food. The tent was pitched on the other side of the fire pit, but for some reason, Joxt had laid him down outside, with one blanket to cover him and another to shield him from the hard ground. Snufkin pushed himself up onto his elbows, touching the back of his head gingerly.
The rough texture of the bandage Joxt had applied felt weird under his fingertips. A small part of it had become hard with dried blood, but the wound had clearly stopped bleeding a while ago. Apart from the pain, Snufkin didn't think he was too worse for wear.
Just as he sat up completely, Joxt came into the clearing. He was carrying several wild leeks and it wasn't until then that Snufkin noticed that he had hung a metal pot – probably stolen from other campers - above the fire, supported with several sturdy branches and twine to keep it suspended. Some kind of liquid was bubbling away inside, sending a cloud of steam into the frigid winter air. It smelled like the stew Moominmamma would make in the valley. Without cutting off the green tops, Joxt threw the leeks into the broth.
"It's going to be awfully bitter if you do it like that," Snufkin said, and Joxt's eyes shot up to meet his. Despite his usual cold outer demeanor, the man cracked a small smile, as if he was glad to see him up.
Tasty, Joxt told him. He had such weird preferences in food, it did not surprise Snufkin that he would choose to make stew this way.
"That's fine, I wasn't going to eat it anyway," he said as he scooted a little closer to the fire. "I'm not hungry."
Joxt threw him a small, concerned glance. Not better?
"Oh, I'm much better. Just don't feel like eating right now." The pain had not subsided any at all in the past few minutes and was accompanied by a slight nausea that made even the smell of the food – as delightful as it was supposed to be – seem unappetizing to him. Snufkin was sure it would clear up on its own over time, but for now he would leave Joxt to enjoy his bitter stew by himself. "What exactly happened?"
Joxt stirred what was inside the pot with a long stick he had clearly whittled down for this very purpose. Either he hadn't heard him or he was deliberately choosing not to answer, Snufkin didn't know. He looked around but did not recognize their current location, meaning Joxt had taken them far away from where they encountered those unsavory humans, and away from the town as well. Perhaps Snufkin did not need the explanation to connect the dots after all.
He grimaced at the thought, unpleasant as it was. Joxt used one of their wooden bowls to scoop up stew from the pot and drank it like that, without using a spoon. Snufkin noticed his hands were clean and heard the distant flow of water in the river, meaning it was safe to assume Joxt had washed himself after their trouble. He did not know why the thought sent an irksome shiver down his spine.
Swallowing away the unease, he watched Joxt eat in silence for a moment. Mixed emotions were clouding Snufkin's mind, and while worry took the forefront of those thoughts, he couldn't deny in part he was relieved at how things had ended up. He had been scared.
But one question was even more pressing than any of the others. Just before he blacked out, he had seen Joxt, had seen what he had been doing. Maybe he would not get a satisfying answer for this either, but Snufkin knew he had to ask. "Why did you protect me?"
Joxt stared at him, the flames reflecting brightly in his eyes. It reminded Snufkin of the city again - of the street performers. Finally, he set down the bowl to be able to gesture with his hands again.
Friends.
"Friends?" Snufkin echoed softly.
Joxt pointed at himself, then at Snufkin, and repeated the gesture he had learned not too long ago, at the bank of a river full of stones. We're friends.
"I guess we are." Snufkin nodded but the movement only worsened his terrible headache. At his obvious wince, Joxt came over and handed him some rough bark Snufkin discerned to be leftovers of the same willow he had given Joxt not long after their first meeting. If you chewed on it, it could alleviate pain. "Thanks."
Joxt returned for his second helping of stew while Snufkin chewed the bark. The taste was awful, bitter like medicine often was but with none of the sugar sweetener added to make it palpable for little kids. At least he didn't have to swallow it. He must have been making a foul face to accompany this sentiment, because Joxt raised an eyebrow at him, amused at his obvious disgust.
"We're close to the river still, right?" Snufkin asked to get his mind of both the pain and the lingering aftertaste in his mouth. He could probably get some water to wash that out from the flask. Joxt nodded, and then as if reading his mind tossed his flask over to him. Snufkin barely managed to catch it. "Good," he said. "We should be able to start following it downstream tomorrow, after we have rested for the night."
Joxt gave him that same worried glance he had earlier. Snufkin wondered at how quickly that had come over him since yesterday, how strangely it fitted on his face. He had never taken Joxt to be the kind of person to be worried over anything.
Healthy to travel? he inquired.
"I'll be fine," Snufkin said, replacing the top back on his flask. "In the morning I'll hardly feel it. And we can be on our way to see the flowers. We can be there in a few days, remember?"
It took a moment for Joxt to look pleased by that statement. Snufkin felt like he was assessing his condition with some skepticism, trying to decipher if he was truly feeling up for the task or just saying such a thing to be accommodating. But whatever must have shown on his expression was enough to convince Joxt, who then nodded again to show he would very much still like that idea.
"Then it's settled," Snufkin said. "We leave tomorrow."
He laid back down, content with the warmth of the fire and both blankets to sleep outside. Joxt did not seem to mind, but stood up from his current place to sit closer to Snufkin instead. He had already proven to be able to sleep in many uncomfortable positions those first few nights and it was hardly as cold now as it had been back then. Stretching out his legs in front of himself and leaning back against a tree, Joxt almost immediately drifted off to a deep slumber. Snufkin rolled over, watching him for a moment.
As strange at this whole entanglement of theirs had been so far, it did not appear to Snufkin as such a bad thing anymore. It had been a gradual change, maybe more of a sunrise than a lighting bolt in the way it had caught him off guard.
But in the end, that just meant Snufkin minded it just as little.
They had been following the river for almost half a week when Snufkin was surprised by what sounded like the rush of waves. Since a few miles ago they had left the denser parts of the forest behind them, with the river disappearing from view behind formations of rock, though its current was still very audible. The water was flowing a lot faster here and now Snufkin realized why that was as they laid eyes on the delta where the river met the sea. The ground here was getting sandier as it went along, and from their vantage point they could see the dunes with its patches of beachgrass that sloped down into the seashore. The tide was low, exposing the large stroke of land made darker by the water where it was used to lapping at the shore. In the far distance, if he strained his vision just hard enough, Snufkin could discern the vague outline of white sails against the horizon.
The two of them stood there on that hill, breathing in air that tasted salty against their lips, and stared out over an ocean so endless it became hard to see where the sky ended and the water began.
"Have you ever seen the sea before, Joxt?" Snufkin asked. "Do you recall?"
Joxt was too busy taking in the view to respond right away. His mouth was drawn into a small line, not betraying his underlying impression of what Snufkin considered to be one of the most wonderful sights the world had to offer. He tilted his head upward, as if to smell the lingering brine in the air. Then he turned towards Snufkin with a grin and for the first time since their meeting, it looked like it actually reached his eyes, lighting up Joxt's entire face in a way nothing else had done so far.
"I'll race you down!" Snufkin took off even before the words had left him, sure that Joxt could outrun him if he tried but getting a head start at least. He didn't get very far before his shoes started sinking deeper into the sand, making it hard to keep going at a steady pace. Joxt experienced less trouble with his bare feet and quickly overtook him on the arenaceous dunes. Snufkin had to trudge through for a while longer before he made it to the more solid part of shore exposed when the sea pulled back. Here, the sand was heavily saturated by water and as such a lot easier to walk on. By the time he reached Joxt, the man was already standing almost ankle-deep in the water, having hitched his pants up to his knees to keep dry. Waves moved sluggishly around his legs, pulling back and then returning to submerge his feet again.
"So have you?" Joxt looked up at his words, finally paying him mind again. "Seen the sea before, I mean."
No memory, Joxt answered. But very beautiful.
Snufkin internally debated if he should take off his own shoes for a dip as well, but decided the hassle of unlacing and relacing them later wasn't worth it. He walked along the shoreline, vision cast on the ground to keep an eye out for the natural trinkets a beach could provide. Moomin did so adore it when he brought back gifts that would not easily be found anywhere in the valley.
There were various small scallops and limpets he ignored, but Snufkin also discovered a shiny piece of sea glass in the most vibrant green color. It was about the size of a coin and shaped similarly, holding it up to the light revealed a kaleidoscope of color on the sand. He was sure Moomin would love it. Not much further on there was a spiral conch shell, half-buried but easily dug out with his hands alone. It seemed in a much better state than most of the ones he'd usually find, no edges cut off by heavy currents, and after checking no creature had made the shell its home, he carried it back to where Joxt was still standing in the water and sat down in the sand nearby.
As Snufkin watched, Joxt suddenly made a noise much like an annoyed house cat when you step on its tail and leaped about three feet into the air in his startled state. When he lifted his leg the thing that had spooked Joxt revealed itself to be merely a stubborn tangle of seaweed that had attached itself to his foot. Snufkin could not help himself and laughed out loud at how comical it was to witness – which in turn only earned him a stern glare from Joxt, who brushed off the seaweed and stalked over to him grumpily.
"Do you wanna learn a trick?" Snufkin asked, in part to cheer the other up. Joxt regarded him wearily, but as usual was quick to leave his annoyance behind when his curiosity was piqued by something new. Snufkin held the spiral conch up to his own ear first, hearing the familiar rush of the ocean waves reflect in deep humming from within the shell. He did the same for Joxt, holding the conch just an inch away from his ears so he could hear the sounds for himself.
Joxt's brow was furrowed at first, as if he did not understand what Snufkin was attempting to do. But one could see the exact moment it clicked and he could recognize the familiar sound of the ocean reverberating. Snufkin pulled back a moment later.
Bring to valley? Joxt asked, indicating the shell still in Snufkin's hands. For your friends?
He realized Joxt wanted to know if he was meaning to bring the shell back with him for spring, like he had explained he did with the dried flowers in his book. He considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "How about you keep it instead?"
The confusion on Joxt's face was an enjoyment all of its own. Why?
"Because you're my friend too."
And when he held the shell out again, Joxt did not hesitate to take it, holding it up to his ear and closing his eyes, as though he could commit it better to memory simply by force of will. Snufkin surveyed the faraway stretches of the ocean in content silence and the ships disappearing off the edge of the world.
Almost like it was the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to bere here.
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