The sun did not burn him anymore.
Where its rays had felt so overwhelming before – as if its glare could blind him – now it felt as merely another ingrained part of him. Fresh air, the grass or sand beneath his bare feet, and the sun that shone with renewed vigor on a world laid open.
He was still not the sentimental kind, but he would give in to small comforts, small joys. The way the wind brushed through his hair and left traces of brine on his face. As they continued traveling he knew he would use the shell often. They had to return further inland, the boy had pointed out the directions to him on the map but he had not cared how they got there as long as they did get there in the end. However, they should have turned from the river earlier than they did if they wanted to reach the flowers.
Their detour had led them to the ocean though. Neither of them probably minded much.
Uncertainty still plagued him concerning what he was looking for or hoping to find on their arrival. He would not worry about the outcome. One could not be disappointed without set expectations.
But that didn't mean apprehension was an easy emotion to ignore.
Had he not been beyond a doubt convinced of it being winter, the look of the town might have fooled Snufkin into thinking it was already turning spring.
Gazing upon the myriad of colors painting the landscape in the form of various flowers was a wonder in itself, though despite the lovely picture it made the settlement was on the smaller side. White cabins with patched-roof stood far apart, with their own gardens accommodating even more flowers. Snufkin remembered the town was mostly trade based, selling the flowers and herbs grown here to both human and creature alike.
Ages ago, the ground had turned out to be extremely suitable for plants to grow swiftly and with ample turnout. The weather was mild and agreeable, allowing plants to blossom even out of season. Farmers had once lived here to exploit this benefit, but over time as people moved in or out of the surrounding lands and the culture shifted, the purpose changed with it. Where once vegetables and grains were grown, the town now had taken on a specialty at cultivating anything that could be considered rare or fetching. Its warmer climate allowed for diverse vegetation that would not thrive anywhere else in the world, while the town's proximity to both the ocean and mountain streams supplied an ideal water source.
Nature had come together here in a wondrous way, and that happened to be the exact reason Snufkin had actually bothered to remember the place.
"No more people, right Joxt?" he asked swiftly as they walked along a path through the surrounding flower fields to see the shape of the village dawn before them. No doubt it was a lot smaller than the market town had been, not to mention a lot more accustomed to non-humans. But their previous encounter with others had soured the mood for interaction. It might have ended well that time, they did not need a repeat of such dramatic circumstances.
Joxt nodded in eager response. His weariness at their proximity to humans had eased slightly – and with such a display at still possessing the strength to ward of danger he felt more unworried still – but Snufkin suspected he still harbored bitter suspicions.
In his heart, he knew this might never fade.
But they did not need to cross into the village to find what they were looking for. As beautiful as the flowers growing around them already were, it was just one patch in particular Snufkin had his eyes out for. They did not even have to approach any of the houses, walking around the far side in a semi-circle. On one gate they encountered a large arch made entirely of woven flowers, the array making a rainbow across the wood.
Joxt stared at it in wonder and Snufkin couldn't help but smile. They had come such a long way, he was now more than certain it had to be worth it in the end.
A slanted meadow full of sunflowers beckoned them closer, long stems bending in the breeze. It was unusually windy today. The petals of bright yellow left no doubt as to where they had gotten their name from. Some grew taller than the two of them, which left Snufkin wondering at their age. Unlike the orchard, these fields were not bordered by fences or the like, left free for people to wander in by way of small paths trampled down by all who came before them. Snufkin recalled the sunflowers, so he knew they were getting closer.
Completely enamored with the sight, Joxt hesitated about once every twenty paces. Snufkin did not find himself minding much. Never being one to hurry anyway – though a little more so than Joxt – the notion that their journey was near to coming to a close filled him with a twinge of gloom about what would happen next. Winter was now squarely on its midway point. Shortly the worst of the weather would be over with in the valley and Snufkin would feel compelled to return to his friends again. He had not yet asked Joxt about his plans but assumed that soon they would part ways and when that happened they might never see each other again.
Unable to encapsulate why this filled him with such odd dejection, he resolved to put it out of mind. Surely he would be better served to concentrate on the present.
They made their way out of a heavy growth of hydrangea to finally gaze upon their destination. Snufkin heard Joxt intake a sharp breath, stunned by what they had found. He had to admit it was incredible in a manner even seeing the ocean had barely managed to be. What stretched before them might be mistaken for a kind of sea of its own, only one made of peonies. The bushes they grew on were large and voluptuous, creating a carpet of green on which the buds perched. All different hues were represented, from pure white to a dark burgundy almost mistaken for black. A gradient ran between the two as the blush would on a maiden's face in love, all different reds claiming their place in the array.
Their scent hung heavy in the air, sweet as sugar with an underlying citrus that carried easily on the wind. Even if nothing else came out of all this, this glimpse had been worthwhile all the trouble it took them to come here.
Joxt rocked back on his heels, like a child barely able to contain his own excitement. Snufkin had never known his eyes to be this bright, filled with sunlight. He wanted to ask if maybe the flowers had sparked a memory after all, but Joxt did not give him the chance. He was already walking into the wall of flowers, fingertips tracing the petals in wonder. Snufkin followed him with slow strides, content with enjoying the peace for himself.
The further they trudged into the field, the harder it became to carry on. It was almost like the flowers had grown in an overabundance, the earth gifting them with strength immeasurable. When it became too hard to walk on much further, Joxt plopped onto the ground, laying down with his legs and arms outstretched and his eyes closed. To Snufkin he looked like the starfish Moomin had found on the beach once.
He sat down himself next to the other. Long blades of grass and twigs covered the earth with little human intervention to clear them out. It wasn't the most comfortable place to take a rest, but the high bushes intertwined to form a canopy above them, shielding them from the glare of the sun and giving the scene a sort of privacy that was cozy in its own right. So Snufkin would gladly tolerate the less than ideal seating arrangement. Joxt's breathing had evened out mere seconds after laying down so Snufkin assumed he was taking a nap. They had been walking for several hours before getting here.
After drinking from his flask and checking up on his dried flowers, he went in search of a new blossom to add to his book. His friends would certainly be surprised to hear he had returned to the same place he had visited once before, but the peony was one of Moomin's favorites in his collection so it felt right to bring back another one. Maybe a lighter color would fit in nicely? As he searched for one which he felt was perfect – pretty enough to express how marvelous this place was, but not so young it would be akin to snatching nature in its prime – another idea prompted in Snufkin's mind.
There were more than enough suitable flowers in their immediate vicinity to bring his plan to fruition. Plucking two handfuls of them, Snufkin started breading the stems together, aided by the thickest blades of grass he could find. In the end his creation might fall apart sooner than he'd like, he never had the adeptness at this that his friends in the valley did. But despite that, he was quite pleased with the ultimate result: a small crown of peonies of various colors.
By the moment he was done with the time-consuming task, Joxt was already cracking his eyes open and pushing himself up on his elbows, yawning languidly. His naps were always short-lived. Snufkin put the flower crown on his head without much preamble, happy when the other did not flinch away from him anymore in the slightest.
"These flowers," he explained, "have complex medical uses, which is why most humans find them so valuable. I've heard they cure just about everything, from infections to pain to sickness. They carry symbolic meaning too but I wouldn't know too much about that."
Pretty, was all Joxt had to add to that, a faint smile on his face.
"That as well." He laughed. Then a thought struck him. "Oh, there is this strange superstition as well. It is said that wishing on a peony for good health can bring a faster recovery for your loved ones. Should we try?"
With a quizzical look, Joxt titled his head to the side. Wish how?
"I'll show you." Standing up, Snufkin plucked another blossom from the bush, the color a pale pink. He closed his palms around it, using the tips of his fingers to loosen the petals from the sepal. Closing his eyes for a moment to make sure the right intention filled his heart – a vital part of the wishing process – he blew the petals into the wind, watching some fall down onto the ground and Joxt's head, but even more were carried away into the air current and out of sight.
They floated gently away, playing in the breeze.
Who did you wish for? Joxt signed.
Snufkin sat back down with a sigh. "You, of course. I hope you get better soon, Joxt. And you won't have to suffer as much anymore."
Joxt ducked his head dismissively. Already better.
"If you say so." And he got a strange look from Joxt in return. Shaking his head, Snufkin rubbed the last few petals still sticking to his fingers off his hands. "Does that mean you're leaving soon?"
While he was doing this Joxt had crossed his legs, straightening his back and putting his hat which had fallen off during the nap into his lap. Leaving where? he asked, the thought apparently not even having been on his mind.
"I don't know," Snufkin said. "I guess you have nowhere to go, then?" Joxt still had not recovered any of his memories, so it made perfect sense that he wouldn't have a home to return to, or a family waiting for him. By all outward appearances he didn't seem too bothered by this, but Snufkin couldn't help being a bit curious.
You? Joxt asked next.
"Oh, I will be returning to the valley. I always do." He had promised, and you can't break something so sacred without dire repercussions. Not that Snufkin had any intention to. "There's uh... somebody important there waiting on me."
With a sly smile, Joxt grinned his amusement at the confession but Snufkin ignored him. They had talked about Moomin before.
"I guess you could come with me?" he continued, doing his best to sound nonchalant. "If you want to? I'm sure everybody there would be fascinated to meet you. And it's pretty. Lots of food and lots of naps." Those last two especially were prone to sway Joxt.
Joxt scratched his nose, giving the proposal some thought. After a moment he nodded. Would make me happy, he decided.
If Snufkin felt a burst of delight at the commitment he did his best not to show it.
Then Joxt motioned for Snufkin to take out his mouth organ. As they travelled he had played a couple of times – the first time after the night he had to calm Joxt down from a nightmare by humming. They shared a love for music.
Taking out the instrument, Snufkin took a few deep breaths in anticipation to play. He wasn't sure which song to pick. He had been working on a spring melody, but it felt too early in the process to share that. Whenever he had a hard time choosing what to play his natural instinct seemed to be to default to 'All Small Beasts Have Bows In Their Tails', a tune he had repeated so often Snufkin could probably still play it should he go deaf. What's more, Joxt seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.
The field was wrapped in serene calm as he started playing, even the scurrying of the insects and the chirping of the birds quieting down as if to show respect for his performance. It was a silly fancy on his part to think like that, but sometimes Snufkin liked to indulge in the foolery of such thoughts.
He startled slightly when he felt something wrap around his tail in the middle of the song, missing a few notes that came out screeching. He stopped playing to turn around, and saw that Joxt had taken the piece of cloth that tied his hair back and had instead fastened it into a bow around Snufkin's tail. Under any different circumstances this would not have been the most surprising thing if it weren't for the fact that he hadn't been aware Joxt was familiar with the words.
When he played his mouth organ, Snufkin couldn't sing along. And he hadn't ever mentioned the name of the song.
"You know it?" Snufkin asked, voice flabbergasted and Joxt stared back with dark eyes full of mystery and a frown. He looked as confused about the revelation as Snufkin felt, but also pulled by something stronger still. As Joxt got up, Snufkin had to quickly collect his belongings to be able to follow him.
They hurried back in the direction they had came from and Joxt froze in front of the flower arch they had passed on their way there. His eyes traced the outline, the frown in his forehead only getting more pronounced. When he turned around his expression had completely transformed from ease into distress, and the suddenness of the change only left Snufkin more concerned, with no clue as to what was going on.
Joxt was following some impossible trail, a collection of imprints only he could see. Snufkin got the distinct impression he was unearthing a reminiscence. Perhaps the very reason his friend had been so strangely drawn to coming here in the first place.
The path winded through the fields in a bent they had not yet taken. They left the village behind them as well as most of the flower fields, darting through a grove of trees. To Snufkin's bewilderment they returned to the river they had been following in the first place, though at a different junction where they had not been before.
Here, Joxt kneeled down into the soil. His claws dug into the earth and stones, searching for some invisible object. Snufkin couldn't do more than stand by and watch, chest full of trepidation and uncertainty. There was something about this spot, something in the way the trees bent to create a small awning. Or the way the river flowed faster in constant ripples. Unable to tell what it was, he concentrated on Joxt instead.
Whatever he had been seeking was not here, hands still empty and now stained with wet dirt. He was staring at the water, eyes vacant – empty as they were when the two of them first met. Snufkin walked around to face him, though Joxt was looking right through him. But his heart didn't fall clear through his chest until he saw the tears streaming down Joxt's face.
Snufkin had no idea what the other had found here – or hadn't found – but clearly it had upset Joxt in a way nothing else had.
Not knowing what else to do, Snufkin put his hands on Joxt's shoulder since that had worked in earlier instances. Joxt didn't move at all – didn't even make a sound. His body was completely still in the most unnatural way.
"Joxt, it's fine. You're going to be okay," Snufkin said. He was at a loss as to what exactly he was assuring but knew sweet rambles would be better than nothing. "I'm right here."
He did not even have time to blink before Joxt's arms were thrown around him. He was pressed into the other's chest, the smell of campfires and flowers lingered on his clothes. Joxt had a natural warmth to him, though the uneven texture of his shirt was rough against Snufkin's cheek. Joxt's fingers locked together perfectly on his back.
And maybe it was because Snufkin couldn't remember the last time he had been hugged like this that it constricted as a lump into his throat. The image was not vivid or even real, a vague description of a secondhand experience. But he had been tiny and small and he had fitted into somebody's arms just like this. Like he belonged there and felt safe with them. Loved unconditionally and lost without recuperation.
"I'm right here-" he repeated, barely able to get the words out.
The significance of those words might be lost on the both of them, spoken in a nook of faded memories. But Snufkin knew together they could give them new meaning.
Oof, we made it to the half-way point in the story. What a ride it has been, though there's plenty more to go ;)
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