A bit of a slower chapter before we get back into the OOF
The water was rising.
He watched his face ripple in the shivering surface, deformed and unshapen, changing in waves both big and small. A younger version of himself stared back at him – complexion smooth and freckled, tanned by the sun.
There were no scars on his throat.
He turned around when the child mewled softly, its legs kicking out beneath the blanket. Leaning forward, he tugged the fabric closer to its body hoping it will keep them warm. Their small hand caught his finger, curled around it with unmeasurable comfort. With a fond smile, he allowed them to hold on a little longer.
Then the sky started darkening, clouds formed from nothing obscuring the daylight.
Intrinsic fear bloomed in his gut even before he heard the heavy fall of their footsteps behind him. Unsteady, hot breathing trailed down the back of his neck, settled into his bones with grave intensity. His hand wrapped around the basket protectively, holding the child closer to him. Its eyes were light, brown flecked with dots of golden sun. It blinked up at him with little awareness of what was about to occur.
He already knew.
Dream and memory blended together as one – the edges frayed and reattached to form something not quite true, not quite a lie. They smiled at him as they reached out their hand to touch his neck.
The water soaked his sleeves up to the elbow, but the basket floated. He did not know what he would have done if it hadn't. Shallow movements made it bob on the water, cascading side to side and granting him a final, brief glimpse at the child as it disappeared from his life forever.
While sharp pain dug into his skin and pulled rivets down his back, he did not care for his own safety in a blink. He would remember those eyes, their shade of moistened beach sand or rough tree bark. The shimmer of stars reflecting back at him when he stroked soft, russet-colored hair that was always wont to form unruly curls.
Even if he would never be able to find that child again, the knowledge that they lived a life taken from him would give him peace in death.
"You're just being obstinate now," Snufkin said for what felt like the hundredth time. But he hadn't been counting, so he couldn't be sure. They were sitting at the fire by nightfall, listening to the crackling of the burning branches. The air was moist with the beginnings of spring just a day away.
Joxt scowled at him, a full-body effort. Shoulders drawn back, the crease in his brow pronounced and his nose pulled up. It was a funny sight – not terrifying at all. Snufkin couldn't help thinking about the angry man, claws tight around his throat and eyes wide and unseeing.
While there might not be a purpose to debating on whether he deserved retaliation or not for what he had done, Snufkin was certain of one thing.
He was not scared of Joxt.
He was scared by what happened. The events themselves had settled a fright in his chest he hadn't often found there, and the first night after that happened Snufkin had not slept a minute. He had laid awake and listened to Joxt's quiet snoring, not being able to get that man's anguished expression out of his mind's eye. What had happened to Joxt must have been more terrible than he could imagine. It was slowly shaping up in front of Snufkin, the corner of a drape you pull up inch by inch to reveal what horrible secret lies beneath so slowly you're left wondering if you should continue divulging or whether it was safer to stop.
How many years had Joxt been held captured by these people? It had not been considered by Snufkin, distracted by all the atrocities that had been inflicted on Joxt while there. But now he was starting to realize it might be a lot longer than he had taken into consideration.
Snufkin was not scared of Joxt but scared for the kind of person he used to be – what kind of suffering could have shaped him into the person he had become. And that's why he couldn't stop thinking about it.
Joxt was too busy glowering at him to notice the troubling thoughts swirling inside Snufkin's head, neither was he a mind reader. The way his cheeks sort of bunched up when he made this expression amused Snufkin in a detached way. Joxt's face had been so gaunt when they met, sunken in from a lack of food. He reached out and impulsively poked Joxt's cheek.
To his credit Joxt merely increased his efforts at looking peeved, though it gave away to tired resignation in due time. While he might be one of the most stubborn people Snufkin had ever met, two could play that game. Joxt must be growing tired of him insisting.
"We know you can talk," Snufkin said. "Well, we knew all along – but you showed it off quite impressively the other night. I would like to hear it once more."
Joxt shook his head. Hard.
"I know, I don't mean to press you," Snufkin sighed halfheartedly. "But it would do you well, I think." This was not entirely a lie. In all other aspects, Joxt's improvement had been better than Snufkin could have hoped for and he was filled with nothing but relief that the other man seemed to be doing so much better with time. The only thing that had remained lacking was a voice and Snufkin was starting to fear that if Joxt could not recover his soon, he might never do so.
But even more, Snufkin had become too curious to bear.
He felt as if he had been chasing a cloud all winter, hopelessly beyond his grasp and moving inch by inch outside his reach. Every time he thought he had found the loose end of the rope, he pulled at more tangles. Hearing Joxt talk that night near the river, the wetness sinking into his clothes, the smell of humans and blood caught in the wind. The rushing of the water and those words carried through.
Snufkin knew deep inside there was something about that combination. He simply couldn't say what. And he was desperate to figure it out.
If only he could hear Joxt's voice once more.
Unable to explain, Snufkin bit his lip. "The other night," he repeated lowly. Joxt's face softened. "Did you mean what you said?" If he couldn't get an answer to all these other mysteries, he could at least get one for this. They hadn't mentioned it since. "What you did-"
Joxt stopped him by pulling on his sleeve. Snufkin had become accustomed to it over time.
Drawing his hand back, the flames cast fluid shadows all over Joxt's features. At night, Snufkin always seemed to think his eyes became impossibly even brighter than they usually already were. They sat still for a long while, but Snufkin knew Joxt wasn't thinking about what to answer. He was thinking about how to phrase what was already plain as day to both of them.
No regret, Joxt signed eventually. A nearby cricket chirped restlessly.
"I'm not saying you should," Snufkin clarified. "I guess I'm just... trying to understand."
It must be exceedingly callous for him to say as such, coming from a place of fortune. Snufkin only could think this way because he had never been in the positions Joxt had been in. Yet still, seeing what he had, the fear that had ceased his heart when for even a brief glimpse he thought Joxt might get hurt again – or worse. Maybe in a different manner Snufkin could understand perfectly.
Joxt gestured again and this time Snufkin had a bit more trouble getting what he meant. Yet another reason why it would be easier if Joxt could regain his ability to talk. Weeks of familiarity had made their communication almost as fluid, but there were still times it fell short. When it became clear Snufkin wouldn't get him, Joxt decided to put it another way.
Balling both hands into fists, the movement was quick and short-lived. Snufkin blinked twice, but he already knew what it meant.
Protect, Joxt had said. They hurt.
Snufkin swallowed uneasily, staring at his own hands instead of Joxt's face. For some reason, it was suddenly hard to meet Joxt's eye. "Your condition when I found you. It was caused by them, right?"
Out of the corner of his vision, he could catch Joxt growing rigid for a blank second, perhaps revisiting those unpleasant memories. A small nod was all he got in response.
"How long? Did they have you for, I mean." Asking about what must have been one of the most dreadful experiences Snufkin could think of – robbed of freedom and kept against your will by those that would only inflict pain on you for their own warped amusement – made him sick to his very stomach. They didn't have much more for dinner than some berries and a handful of bread leftover from days ago. If Snufkin wasn't careful, he would expel even that meager meal.
Do not know, Joxt told him. He shrugged his shoulders, laid-back in a way that did not befit the gravity of the horror they were speaking of. Snufkin wasn't sure whether to count it as a win, a sign that Joxt had truly become more comfortable around him. Or something much worse. His attention was drawn by Joxt again.
Long, he added after a moment. Very, very long.
Snufkin did his best not to bite the inside of his cheek out of consternation. "Weeks?"
This time it was Joxt who looked away, the shadows obscuring his face. Somehow it made him look simultaneously younger and older than Snufkin had ever known him. More guarded, yet as if a single blow of wind could wipe him away. His hands remained steady. Longer.
"Months?" Snufkin gasped involuntarily and was even more horrified when Joxt looked at him again, eyes narrowed.
Much longer.
At once Snufkin did not want to pursue this line of conversation any longer, no matter how curious he had been about it before. "Why?" he chocked out, but doubted that Joxt would have an answer.
To his surprise, a ghost of a smile moved over Joxt's face. In any other situation, Snufkin could have mistaken it for the relics of nostalgia. He knew better.
Hunting, Joxt explained. Stealing, fighting. The next motion was unfamiliar to Snufkin, but it might be better if he didn't know so he didn't ask. Useful to them, Joxt finished.
Silence was all Snufkin could manage in response, with no consolation to offer even if he had been able to utter words through the reflexive clenching of his teeth. With only this little information to go on, he was already utterly disgusted and he realized he didn't want to know more. Joxt clearly took no pleasure in talking about it, and there was nothing to gain for Snufkin to hear of it.
"I'm sorry-" he said eventually. "My intention wasn't to remind you of that unpleasantness. I understand you were just trying to protect yourself."
Joxt made a noise that almost made Snufkin startle, despite it not being loud at all. It was something halfway between a snort and a chuckle. Snufkin shot up his head to look at him and caught the traces of a grin on Joxt's face. You, he was pointing at Snufkin. Protect you.
Through the dizzying constricting of his chest, Snufkin forced the wisp of a smile.
But despite it all, he couldn't be truly happy about it.
As silly as it was for him to believe, Snufkin always thought the valley smelled different.
It was not the kind of thing he could describe, maybe the sensation had taken home in his heart without him consciously permitting it to. Coming back here year after year had ingrained the winding path of the river and the rolling hills it nestled between in his very veins. His arrival in spring was the closest thing Snufkin would ever feel like coming home.
This time apprehension drowned out the usual excitement at the sight of that long familiar valley.
Joxt on the other hand seemed to be more relaxed. Snufkin wanted to take this as a good sign, if the humans were still tracking them surely Joxt would have noticed by now. But he couldn't be certain. He had no choice but to put the thought out of his mind for the time being.
It was a hard worry to keep hold of anyway when the ground started sloping downward beneath their feet and before he knew it Snufkin could discern the shape of the Moominhouse below them. The winding river carried itself through the middle of the valley and not far from the house, where a wooden bridge used to cross the turmoiling water lay, which was where Snufkin usually put up his tent for these months of the year.
It was also where Moomintroll stood waiting on him, as always.
He would never admit to it in hindsight, but both Snufkin's heart and feet quickened at the notion. Before he could properly stop himself his idle walking had turned into a near jog aided by the fact he was going downhill. As embarrassing as it was, he might have briefly forgotten about Joxt in his haste.
Moomin was a blur of movement, trying to wave at him with both arms while also running up to meet him. Snufkin was scared the poor troll was going to trip over himself in his fervor, but luckily no such thing happened. Instead, he found himself slowing down his momentum just in time before the two of them barreled into each other too forcefully. Scarcely being able to prevent them both from tumbling onto the ground, Snufkin laughed at the way Moomin clasped his paws around his neck with undue force, pulling him so close it almost hurt a bit.
He could feel Moomin laughing too, the way his body shook against Snufkin's own. "I'm very happy to see you too, Moomintroll," he managed through the tightness of the embrace. Usually he wouldn't be fond of it, but after not seeing Moomin for this long Snufkin simply couldn't bring himself to mind.
"It's been forever," Moomin said, which had Snufkin arching an amused brow for he knew his friend had been asleep for the majority of that time. "The strangest thing hap-"
Moomin stopped himself before he could finish the sentence, staring at something over Snufkin's shoulder and it was in that moment that Joxt popped back into his mind. Moomin's surprise had loosened the hold of the hug and Snufkin stepped back quickly to turn around.
As was to be expected Joxt had followed him down. He was standing just a few feet away, looking at a loss for what to do or possibly confused by the situation. Snufkin found it quite humorous that despite everything, this is what would puzzle the other man.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Moomin dropped his arms, though he looked regretful to do so. He titled his head to the side. "You brought a... friend?"
The way Moomin said the word was hesitant in its own way. As if the idea that Snufkin would make a friend while he was away was a shock in itself. Snufkin could hardly blame him.
"Moomin, this is Joxt." Snufkin walked over to grab Joxt by the elbow, both as a form of comfort and to make sure he didn't do anything rash or try to run away. He'd never know with Joxt. "I uh... found him in a spot of trouble during the journey. We helped each other out." The entire story would have to wait, so Snufkin decided this would suffice as the shorthand version for now. "So he wanted to come visit the valley with me."
They hadn't actually discussed how long Joxt would stay for. If he would want to remain all summer, maybe even travel with Snufkin again next autumn, assuming they hadn't been able to figure out the lost memory thing by then.
Moomin looked perturbed only for a blink longer, but as always was quick to adapt to changing plans. And even more quick to welcome a new friend into his life. "It's nice to meet you, Joxt!" Moomin gave him his most beaming smile.
Joxt blinked at him and waved.
"He doesn't talk," Snufkin explained quickly. "Or can't. Strange fellow." He ignored the glare Joxt sent his way at those words.
"Oh!" Moomin nodded. "Mamma might know what to do about that."
"We better go see her then," Snufkin said. He had even more apprehension about introducing Joxt to a house full of strangers, but there was no use postponing the inevitable. If he got it over with quickly, he could focus on other things. Besides, it would save him the trouble of having to tell the story of how the two met several times over.
He held onto Joxt's elbow as they walked the short distance to the house. Joxt seemed unimpressed at the sight of the valley and kept stealing quick glances at Moomin who led the way while excitingly talking to Snufkin, who couldn't do much more than hum the occasional reply. The expression of confusion had not left Joxt at all.
Snufkin was just deciding he should ask about it – perhaps not now but certainly later – when they arrived at the house. Moomin ran inside ahead of them, calling for his family and Snufkin followed meekly, not knowing what kind of reaction to expect. He just hoped the others would agree to help him find whatever Joxt was looking for.
Brushing his shoes on the doormat - Joxt with his bare feet not bothering to do the same - Snufkin inhaled deeply the welcoming scents of the house. The wooden floor always creaked the same, no matter how long he had been gone for. Going by the smell, Mamma was busy making the first strawberry pie of spring – the sweetness having permeated the air despite the open windows. Distantly, Snufkin could hear Moomin talking to his parents.
Still pulling Joxt along, Snufkin made his way into the kitchen, where Moominpappa was sitting at the table drinking his morning tea. Moomin and Mamma were talking at the sink, about to turn around. Pappa was faster though, attempting to put down his cup while he raised his snout.
The sight before him appeared to shock him to the very core, brown eyes growing wide as they settled on Joxt, who had next to no reaction.
When it fell to the floor the teacup shattered into a million pieces.
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