/Author's Note: It took me forever to be able to log back into fanfiction, but I'm here again! I couldn't get the login page to load properly and it kept glitching out on me. It was weird. It happens sometimes. The important thing is that I got it working again. gives me a lot of trouble sometimes. I will always update here, but I do update more quickly on Archive as it's just easier to do so. So if you'd like to stay up to date faster, here is my Archive: Charlie_W_Hawthorn | Archive of Our Own
Gunnel's eyes were hollow, blackness filled the eye sockets of the skeleton. There was nothing inside, yet Snufkin felt the overwhelming sensation that Gunnel could see him perfectly. Perhaps even better than he could see her.
He gulped, partly because he hoped he was hallucinating again, and partly because he knew he wasn't.
Gunnel made no further movements, though the empty eyes seemed to remain trained on Snufkin. Still, nothing stirred inside the cave. Snufkin nearly attributed the movement of Gunnel's head to a creature living inside the skull. It may have moved and disturbed the skull as it did. It seemed like a good explanation.
Until he saw another skeleton's leg rise against the chains that held it against the metal frame of its bed. It was a slight movement, but enough to catch Snufkin's attention.
Snufkin couldn't remember the name of this one. He believed it started with a 'W'. Wilhelm? Willama– no…
Whoever it was hadn't finished shifting it seemed. They began to tug at the chains wrapped around their wrists and ankles. Even as a skeleton, with no skin nor muscle in the way, the poor child made no headway against the restraints. It was possible that Mama and Papa had tightened them as the body faded to mere bone.
It was a futile effort, though the skeleton never stopped. It seemed to go on for hours, the tugging becoming more violent and desperate with the more obvious it became that it would do no good.
No one else moved. Gunnel's head remained in place. Snufkin laid stiff against the rather pathetic bed he was in. His thoughts shifted, forcefully, in an attempt to drown out the incessant noise of the chains clanging against bone from across the room.
The mattress that Snufkin lay upon was thin and hard. Softer than a dirt road, but it had no give.
Snufkin wished he could cover his ears to stop the sound of the clanking of metal.
If he had to guess, the mattress was found in a garbage heap. He couldn't smell very well because the cold had numbed nearly every one of his senses, but even that didn't deter the faint stench of decay coming up from beneath him.
If the clanging didn't stop, Mama and Papa might come back into the room. He didn't want to see Mama's eyes again.
Snufkin's feet were bare, he realized; Nude against the cold. If he stretched his legs out far enough and dragged his chest downwards until the chains hurt his wrists, he could feel the metal bar of the bed frame. The intense cold sent a shock through his legs.
CLANG
CLANG
CLANG
CLANG
The traveling group had reached the neighboring town. The one that housed the mountain: Their destination. Moominpapa pointed out the mountain as they came to a decent view of it. "We believe Snufkin is up there."
It had taken another full day to reach the town, and the sun was already beginning to set. Snufkin had, many times, warned Moomin about the dangers of traversing a forest – let alone a mountain, at night. It was, of course, beyond a struggle to ignore his best friend's advice and abandon the group. But one look from Moominpapa kept Moomin from venturing off on his own.
The innkeeper was more than thrilled to accommodate the group, though he lacked enough rooms for them all. Many cots and extra blankets were pulled out of storage and set up in rooms also occupied by other members of the group. The inn was packed.
Moomin watched on, resentful of many of the adults as they downed their meals, ravenous after their journey. He had never seen Snufkin act so ill-mannered at dinner, even when Moomin knew he was starving. Though, he supposed, he had obviously never seen Snufkin eat when he wasn't there.
Moomin laid his head down on the table before him, ignoring the plate of bread and butter he'd been served nearly ten minutes ago. He breathed in the scent of the now cold bread, as he closed his eyes.
Imagining Snufkin wasn't hard. Moomin did it all the time, even before this winter's horror. But picturing Snufkin greedily stuffing his face was a bit difficult. Snufkin was always graceful in a way that Moomin assumed could only come with years of developing agility and balance against nature's currents of winds and rains. There were many things about Snufkin that seemed so practiced, even if Snufkin claimed to have never done them before.
Moomin's thoughts drifted beyond its attempts of picturing Snufkin sloppily eating and instead skipped to imagine Snufkin with a few bread crumbs on his cheek. He could feel his face flush a bit. Somehow that image was cute. It broke the gracefulness of Snufkin and gave him a childish, needy look.
Moomin giggled at his friend who stared at him in return. "What?" Snufkin asked. Moomin reached up, hand stopping short of touching Snufkin's cheek. "You've got crumbs on your face."
"Oh?" Snufkin's cheeks turned a soft pink and he quickly wiped his face with his sleeve. He got most of it, but one crumb still remained.
For some reason that Moomin couldn't explain, he couldn't resist raising his hand the rest of the way and placing it on Snufkin's cheek. Snufkin's eyes darted to Moomin, surprised and unsure.
Moomin rubbed his thumb across the vagabond's cheek, ridding it of the final crumb. But he didn't lower his hand.
Snufkin stared at him, watching his every move. His shoulders had risen in what seemed like anticipation. Moomin just sat there with him, watching the wonder sparkle in Snufkin's eyes.
"Moomin?" Snufkin asked, though his voice wasn't his.
Moomin furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Moomin, wake up." Snufkin took Moomin's hand in both of his, and lowered it from his face. Again, the voice wasn't Snufkin's.
Moomin's eyes shot open. Snufkin wasn't in front of him, but instead a plate of cold, stale bread. Snorkmaiden leaned into his line of sight. "Moomin? Are you awake?"
Moomin sighed, and begrudgingly sat up. He stretched and looked back at his girlfriend. "Yes." He tiredly responded. That was a nice dream.
Snorkmaiden smiled and clasped her hands in front of her, raising off her heels for a moment in her typical feminine way. "Oh good, I was worried that you were going to try to sleep out here tonight." She glanced around the dining hall of the inn with an unsettled look. "Why don't we take your dinner back to your room and you can eat there?" She suggested. There was a hopeful look in her eyes that signified that she wanted to speak to him in private.
Moomin pushed himself out of his chair and picked up his plate. He followed Snorkmaiden into his room, which he was sharing with Sniff, Moominpapa, and Little My. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed his plate on the nightstand next to him.
Snorkmaiden sat beside him on the bed and fiddled with her tail. She stared at the floor, trying to piece her words together. She knew what she wanted to say, but was unsure how to say it.
"Moomin…?" She began. Her eyes glanced to the side, noticing her boyfriend wasn't looking at her. "Moomin." She began again, "When we rescue Snufkin, and everything goes back to normal…" She trailed off, tilting her head away from Moomin, a look of sorrow clouding her face. "Things aren't going to be back to normal, are they?"
It took a moment, but Moomin shook his head. "No." He said. Snorkmaiden wanted to burst into tears right then and there, a bubbling feeling in her gut that she didn't have the courage to identify. Moomin continued, "Not until Snufkin's healed and-... and…" He stopped speaking. Snorkmaiden finished his thought, "And even then, it won't be the same, will it?"
Moomin didn't respond. Snorkmaiden let out a sob and covered her face. To that, Moomin did respond. He turned to her and raised his hands in an uncertain attempt to calm her. But with making the gesture, his hands raised to her face, his previous dream came flooding back, and he lowered his hands again.
"Oh, Moomin! This is awful!" She cried, not having seen his hands rising or retreating. Moomin nodded, "Yes. It's terrible." He wanted to say more, though he didn't know what. He had a feeling Snorkmaiden had a lot more she wanted to say as well. But they didn't get the chance to.
The door opened and Sniff staggered in. "Oh boy, am I tired!" He exclaimed. His belly was rounded. It was clear he had stuffed himself full out in the dining hall. Nothing was left for him to do but to crash on the cot on the other side of the bed. He barely acknowledged Moomin or Snorkmaiden until he was finally laying down. "Moomin, maybe we should just stay here at the inn. The stew is delicious!"
He was clearly scared, but it was meant as a joke. As joke-like as Sniff's cowardly comments got. Moomin narrowed his eyes, though, not appreciating the idea. "What? Of course not, Sniff! Snufkin still needs our help!" Sniff let out an apologetic whimper and rolled over, covering himself with a blanket.
Snorkmaiden dropped from the bed, landing on her feet with a quiet thud. "I'd best be getting to bed too." Moomin looked at her and nodded, his eyes a lot more kind. Sniff's 'joke' may have outwardly upset him, but it did its job in distracting him from his thoughts.
"We have a big day ahead of us," a voice called from behind Snorkmaiden. Snorkmaiden jumped, "Oh!" and quickly turned. Moominpapa stood at the door frame, "Oh dear, I'm sorry Snorkmaiden. I didn't mean to frighten you." Snorkmaiden let out a quiet reassurance and fled the room as Moominpapa entered.
With everyone settled in for the night, the owls began to hoot and the crickets began to chirp. Snoring filled the inn. Everyone was exhausted from their long trek over the Lonely Mountains. Including Moomin, but he struggled to fall asleep. Countless images of Snufkin played through his head, keeping him wide-awake. His eyes were open, so he watched as the shadows of the darkened room danced in the moonlight.
He could see the trees swaying in the gentle night winds, and the squirrel that had hopped from one branch to the next. It would have lulled him to sleep had it not been for the circumstances… or the sudden ghostly screams coming from the mountains. They were barely audible, as though they were simply the echoes of the past. Many painful pasts.
Moomin recalled the children that he had met the last time he was at the inn.
" Sometimes you can hear the sounds of all the kidnapped children screaming in the night for their real mommies and daddies to come to save them."
Moomin's ears perked up, and he listened. He didn't want to listen, but he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to hear Snufkin screaming along with the other children. He listened throughout the night until the blowing winds, the shrieking crickets, and the ghostly pleas forced his exhausted mind to catch up with his exhausted body. He fell asleep.
Back in MoominValley, Moominmama sat in silence in the living room, nervously sewing. She hadn't a real plan for what she was making, so she sewed and sewed until it turned into a garment on its own or inspiration struck her.
Having offered the guest room to the traveled doctor, the house, at least, wasn't completely empty. Moominmama just hadn't been up for such a trip. Over the Lonely Mountains is quite a ways, after all. And in any case, someone needed to stay home and watch over the house, keep the doctor fed, and look after the remaining people in the valley. She told herself that many times. Otherwise, she would feel guilty for not going.
As it turned out, her staying in the valley had been the right decision. Because it allowed the doctor to bounce ideas off her. Moominmama wasn't a doctor herself, but she knew a little first aid. Enough to have patched up her boy's friend on that awful night. And while her input wasn't particularly experienced, the doctor seemed to find it helpful to at least have someone to talk to, seeing as she was determined to stay in the valley until Snufkin (or his body) was returned home.
The doctor had brought many of her own books. 'Just in case I needed to reference something,' she had explained. She had tucked herself up in Moominpapa's study for most of the day, pouring herself over her textbooks and even pulling a couple of Moominpapa's off the shelf. Whatever she was looking for, Moominmama had no clue. But it kept her attention and kept Moominmama from having to think of ways to keep her guest occupied, though at times she wished she could.
Moominmama finally stood up, placing her sewing on the couch beside her. If she could be of help when the doctor was rambling, perhaps she could help in other areas as well. It wasn't like she was a complete novice in the field of medicine, after all.
Quietly knocking on the door to the study, she opened it and peered her head in. She regarded the various books strewn about the room, several pages marked in many of the textbooks with their corners folded, and her husband's books respectfully bookmarked by having slid another piece of paper in between the pages.
The doctor paid no mind to Moominmama's knocking nor her entering. "Hello," Moominmama greeted, "I thought maybe you could use some help." She put her palm to her cheek in mild embarrassment, "Well, as much as I can help, that is." The doctor only just now seemed to realize Moominmama was standing there.
"Huh? Oh, yes. I suppose." Had she heard her? The doctor finally leaned back in Moominpapa's chair and tapped the eraser of a pencil against her lips. "I'm searching for poisons native to this part of the world." She continued as Moominmama knelt down and began flipping through her husband's ' Florals and Blossomys' book, which discussed the fauna throughout the region.
"Though I'm certain the wound you described to me was an injection site, I can't be certain without seeing it for myself. And, if it is indeed poison," The doctor stood up and picked up a stack of textbooks, dumping them on the desk– she wasted no time skimming the pages, "Then I'm afraid of how much time has passed since he was poisoned. If I can at least narrow down the types of poisons that cause 'bubbling blood' and 'blackened edges', then all the faster he can be treated."
Moominmama nodded, empowered by her own mission now. While she might not be off with the others, traveling the dangerous mountains and rescuing Snufkin from terrifying monsters, she still had a purpose here in the valley. So she began to pour over the books just as diligently as the doctor.
Just as Snufkin had feared, the repetitious clashing of metal and bone had drawn the attention of 'Papa'. He shambled into the room of the cavern, limbs swaying as though they struggled to stay attached to his body. "Weldon." Papa began, stopping before the shuffling skeleton. "Child, please. Be good, now." The movement slowly stopped as Papa pet the skeleton's head.
Snufkin shivered when Papa's eyes trailed up to him. His own eyes must have been playing tricks on him, because Papa seemed to move with the shadows themselves, appearing before Snufkin without having taken a step.
"Elias," he said, using Snufkin's 'new name', "You'd do well not to learn any mischievous behavior from Weldon. He is quite rambunctious and causes your mother a fair bit of strife." Papa shook his head sadly, as though he truly believed Snufkin wanted to be here.
Papa reached to Snufkin's face and pet the boy's cheek, sending yet another shiver down Snufkin's spine. The hand was cold and plastic-like, hard and crusty. Papa pulled his hand away and left the room. It was then that the skeletons began to scramble, tangled in chains and bed sheets. Nearly all of them, save for a few, shifted their bodies to stare at Snufkin.
Dozens of empty, hollow eyes peered at Snufkin through the darkness.
Weldon had not participated, but instead, began to pull against his chains again. Undeterred by Papa's pleas, and unbothered by the new addition to the family. Gunnel, on the other hand, turned her body and sat up as much as the chains would allow her to.
"Elias," She said. Her voice echoed off the walls, coming from no direction in particular. It sounded as though she were calling from across a meadow while also whispering directly into Snufkin's ears.
Snufkin shook his head quickly, both out of instinct to get away from the disembodied words beside him, and out of rejection of this name. "No. Not Elias." He protested. His voice was still hoarse, but he managed to draw upon some sternness.
Gunnel simply nodded but made no indication that she cared what his real name was. "You're still warm." She said, instead. The other skeletons glared holes into his body. Snufkin gulped. He thought he felt cold, but he supposed it was warmer than having no skin at all. A dreadful feeling overtook him. Perhaps the skeletons were not chained with the sole intent of keeping them in place. But also to keep them from grasping for warmth from the living. His eyes floated toward the body he had noticed earlier. The one that still bared skin, though it was peeling from the bones and the muscles beneath were nearly liquified.
Snufkin tried not to retch. Had it not been the middle of winter, the smell of decomposition would surely have been unbearable. The oozing pus seeped into the mattress beneath the body, and Snufkin had a sickening thought: A body like that may have been laying on the mattress he was now on. Whatever happened to the body, he didn't know. But the mere thought that he could be soaked in fluids of decay caused him to dry-heave.
He couldn't stop. With the heaving came the coughing, and the pain of dehydration darkened his vision. It was already hard to see and this didn't help. He must have blacked out at some point, though for how long, he couldn't tell. His eyes were dry and blurry. They must have stayed open. Blinking several times, his vision returned. He wished it hadn't.
Mama was stooped directly in front of him, tongue hanging loosely from what was left of her mouth. Snufkin yelped, the sudden force of air in his throat startling his ribcage and causing another coughing fit. He couldn't hear what Mama was saying, but he could vaguely see Papa standing beside her, listening intently. Within seconds, he felt a sharp pain atop his ribs. The same pain he'd felt when Papa's long, needle-like finger had pierced his skin.
…
The world went black again.
Moomin might have said this town was beautiful. It wouldn't have been a lie. Even in the snow, there were several trees displaying white flowers that rivaled the snowflakes that had now blanketed the roads of the town.
A few delicate petals fell from their branches and landed softly against the snow and the people that bustled about– stepping to the side as the two-dozen-plus MoominValley residents made their way towards the mountain.
Yes, Moomin might have said this place was beautiful, but he couldn't. He knew better. It was, in truth, a hideous refuge of occult mystery. 'Shadow Parent,' He thought. Who could live in the gloom of such creatures? Who could live here and simply accept that these beings were here? Had the horrid things taken up shelter in MoominValley there would have been no chance that the residents would have simply allowed the varmints to stay, preying on children in the night. What self-respecting town allowed that?!
The children from the inn's words rang in his mind, not for the first time that morning, "No one looked because no one cared." "No one wants to see them again."
A man and woman, native to the town, sat at a table in a cafe. They were bundled up tightly to shield against the cold that penetrated even the thick walls of the building. They watched the MoominValley residents march by with curiosity glazing their eyes. Moomin couldn't help but glare at them. No one looked for the missing children? Not even them, he supposed. Disgusting.
Moomin paused, nearly tripping over his own feet. He had become so angry lately. It scared him. He looked up towards the mountains– towards their destination. He had faith that Snufkin was still alive. That he was up there, waiting for him. Despite his anger, he still prayed. He prayed that Snufkin was still breathing. He prayed that, should bad things be happening (of which, he was nearly certain) that Snufkin could sleep through it. That his friend's mind wouldn't be tainted with fear and agony. The simple thought of Snufkin, afraid, when he was finally at home and safe, but still tarnished by these terrifying horrors of the wintertide, broke Moomin's heart.
No one had the right to break Snufkin's exemplary serenity. And had it happened, Moomin would do anything in his power to mend it.
They were leaving the town now, the end of the group trailing behind, taking one or two last glances at the shops the loathsome town offered. Little My had no problem scowling at them for distracting themselves on such an imperative quest. That, right there, laid the difference between Moomin and Little My. But since Snufkin had turned up, months before he should have, disheveled and blood-soaked, this stark difference between herself and her moomintroll brother had nearly disappeared. It was frightening.
To see their neighbors appear to forget what this trip was about, letting material fancy catch their eye in lieu of staying focused on rescuing Snufkin, felt vile. The faster they could save Snufkin and get him home, the faster she could be the angry one and Moomin could go back to being the overly kind, naive, and forever pinning troll he'd always been.
Little My peeked around the dozen or so folks ahead of her in order to catch a look at Moomin. He had bags under his eyes, darkened and sleepless. She wondered if he'd rested at all last night. If he hadn't he wouldn't be fit to fight monsters if it came to that. Just more of a reason for her to be alert and ready. Her teeth were sharp and prepared to bite down on anyone, or anything, she needed to.
They'd begun ascending the mountain in no time. The thought of being so close to their goal must have fueled their community. Snorkmaiden strode next to Sniff, holding his paw in an attempt to give him, and herself, courage. He was shaking and muttering to himself. She wasn't exactly paying attention to what he was saying. Her thoughts were on Moomin who briskly walked leagues ahead of her. She watched as Moominpapa had to repeatedly pull him back so he wouldn't leave the group.
As nervous as she was for Snufkin's sake, she also feared these 'Shadow Parents' would go after Moomin next if they allowed him to venture on ahead of everyone else. She'd thought about last night, over and over again. It kept her up until the sun had almost risen. The lack of sleep did little to help her process the events that transpired.
She had plenty more that she wanted to ask Moomin last night. Plenty that had been left unsaid for fear of its appropriateness due to the situation. She wanted to know if Moomin still loved her. Or if this ordeal had changed his mind. Moomin had always been quite doting over her, but that same doting he showed Snorkmaiden, he also showed Snufkin. There was no difference, save for Moomin's respect for Snufkin's personal space and instinctive distrust of passionate words.
The thoughts had always been in her mind, but never had they felt threatening to her. Never had she thought that maybe Moomin would prefer–... She stopped thinking about it. She couldn't think about it further. It hurt. And it hurt even more when she remembered how wrong it was of her to think such things during this crisis. She felt shame and guilt. What an awful person she must be, prioritizing her own problems over Snufkin's. She opted to stop thinking for the rest of the journey up the mountain. Her focus limited itself to the distance above her, staring at the top of the mountain. She could about see the entrance to a cave. Her determination sharpened.
Snufkin was there. Right inside. She could atone herself by doing anything she may for him.
"Aha! I found it!" The doctor exclaimed. "At least, I believe I have."
Moominmama stood up quickly, feeling the all too familiar sensations of being old, the blood rushing from her knees to her cheeks. She would have to make some tea after this. They both could use a drink.
The doctor pointed to a single, small paragraph with her long finger. Her nails were trimmed to the stub with signs of battling nail-biting. Moominmama read the paragraph aloud:
"A simple recipe for disease; A witch's brew of potent malice. A sprig of tainted foxglove, dead and shriveled. Wolfsbane is next, a newly budding babe, sat beneath the mother…"
Moominmama looked up from the book, confusion gracing her face. The doctor stared at her. An air of apprehension and doubt filled the room. Moominama slowly lifted the book's cover to view the title of the work.
'Encantors' Ferment' it read. "Where ever did Papa get such a book?" Moominmama muttered in concern. Turning back to the page she'd marked with her palm, she read the final sentence of the paragraph.
"Uniting these two ingredients is deadly, but a true Encantor doesn't stop there; Control is the aim of this infusion, and so requires the final integrate: A tear from a mourning widow, webbed in solace."
"Oh, dear." Moominmama exclaimed, "To think someone would make such a thing." Her gaze remained on the recipe before her. In her peripheral she could see the doctor lean further to the book, examining it with close intent.
The current page held in Moominmama's hand identified no cure. Hesitantly, she turned the page, weary with the sense that something was wrong. They were so close to discovering Snufkin's possible ailment. Mama wondered if all researchers felt this dread when they were so near a resolution.
The page after was all the confirmation she needed. Her dread was not misplaced, as it usually wasn't. There was no continuation of the recipe. Nothing to indicate an antidote. The book artlessly transitioned to the next recipe, one centering on a maiden's wisdom. She read no further.
The doctor frowned beside her, contempt clear on her features.
There was silence between the two that lasted nearly a minute before the doctor spoke up. "I can figure this out. Just let me try." She sounded uncertain.
"Please do," Moominmama begged. "I'll go make us some black tea with milk."
Moomin stopped directly in front of the entrance to the cave. Moominpapa jogged ahead of the group to catch up with him. Once Moomin had been able to see the cave's entrance at the corner, he took off running, completely forgetting the dangers of the monsters lurking within.
The only thing stopping him from entering on his own was Moominpapa's hand firmly gripping his forearm and yanking him backward with the force of a scared parent. "Moomin, wait!" He demanded, staring into the darkness of the cave, hoping, praying that nothing was about to come crawling out to snag his child from his grasp.
"He's in there, Papa!" Moomin argued, trying to tug his arm away. The delay in proceeding onward had given Little My enough time to catch up to them. "What are we waiting for?!" She demanded. "The others are close enough, let's go in!"
Moominpapa used his other hand to grab her wrist and keep her from bounding into danger as well. "No, no! Little My!" But his efforts were in vain. Because of her tiny body, she was able to slip away from him and darted inside. Moominpapa's lapse of attention to Moomin gave the boy a moment to free himself as well. He followed Little My, entering the cave without qualm.
Inside the cave was a home. An entrance room, filled with furniture. It would have seemed a nice home, had the furniture not been rotted away and falling apart. Dry rot and mold-infested the broken forms of what must have once been very nice home amenities.
Moomin's heartbeat picked up, his fear finally catching up with him. Little My seemed undeterred. She looked from right to left before strolling, with a purpose, further into the cave. She stopped just before turning a corner.
Her face paled.
Directly before her stood Papa, his body hardened and melted into an undead abomination. His eyes bore into her, with an anger that nearly seemed misplaced. As though he couldn't recognize her as a child, but instead, only an intruder. A presence that threatened to harm his 'children'.
He raised his arm and swiped downward, slashing Little My's bow from her neck, clearly aiming to slit her throat in a single movement. Blood spilled onto the ground with a sickening gurgle.
"LITTLE MY!" Moomin shouted in terror.
