Klaus hadn't been a fan of the kid at the very beginning.
No one had been, really. He seemed rather snobby in the way he turned his nose upward at the sight of the Smeerensburg traditions. The man was always wound-up and stiff, and he never dressed down, not even on a casual day. But most of all, the new postman that had been sent by the academy would not talk. He would not speak to a single person. Of course, who would want to willingly speak to any of the general population that lived within Smeerensburg? The bubbling rivalry between the Krums and the Ellingboes made it hard to approach anyone, even for something as simple as mail. Klaus could understand that much. He could not understand, however, the kid's disdain for Alva, the woman who sold fish, and Mogens, the ferryman. Well, perhaps he could learn to understand the latter, but certainly not Alva. She was harsh and rough around the edges, sure, but she never turned her back on anyone, especially a kid, who seemed like they needed her.
The kid, as Klaus had learned, had a name. Jesper Johansson.
It wasn't a very common name, especially around here, which only added to the boy's "outsider" bingo card. It took a few weeks for Klaus to notice the boy was even living in Smeerensburg. Honestly, the old woodsman hardly went into town. He had a hard time socializing with people in general, and he was afraid his gruff and brooding nature would scare off potential newcomers. Still, whenever he had to, he would make his way down to Alva's shop (which was supposed to be a school, something that broke Klaus' heart) and strike up a conversation. She and Mogens were the only two people on the entire island of Smeerensburg that Klaus found he had an actual connection. Sometimes, only sometimes, he would catch a glimpse of a group of children playing in the snow, and one of them would smile and wave. Klaus would always do the same back before returning to his cabin for another couple of months.
Whenever the old woodsman had taken notice of Jesper, however, his interest was peaked. At first, he was curious to see how the newcomer would adjust to the town, and he almost felt bad for the kid after seeing just how young he looked. He couldn't be over nineteen years old, and here he was, off on his own, trying to do an impossible job in a small town full of crazy people. Klaus had kept his distance, unsure of how to react to the stranger. However, the moment he started picking up on his snobby signals, he had rolled his eyes.
Another one, the woodsman had thought. It was unfortunate, really. The kid seemed to have some potential, and by the overall way he carried himself, and the fancy uniform he wore, he certainly had a chance to make something of himself. After a while, Klaus had ignored the boy, but he couldn't help but be surprised whenever he'd managed to stay in Smeerensburg for almost three whole months. Most postmen quit after their first two weeks, deeming the old town hopeless.
Jesper was different. Still annoying. But different.
The first time Klaus actually ran into the kid was by complete accident. He'd run out of provisions for food, so, as per usual, had to make his way back down to Smeerensburg. He was able to easily avoid most of the conflict, simply because of his gigantic stature. Nobody dared to mess with him. The old woodsman had made his way through the snow, eyes trained forward and towards the door of the old fish shop. Just as he was reaching for the handle, the door swung open, and there he was, Jesper Johansson, his face red and his shoulders trembling with anger. Klaus was too surprised to be annoyed, especially once Jesper had looked up to meet the stranger's gaze. The lanky boy didn't jump or gasp or try to move away. He simply sniffed and pressed his eyes to the snowy ground as he stormed around the woodsman. There hadn't been a single word shared between either of them. Alva was standing back in her shop, bloodied knife in her hand with her arms crossed. She didn't look pleased.
Klaus stepped inside and closed the door, eyes wide. "Should I ask what happened?" he questioned.
Alva rolled her eyes and turned back towards the counter where a half-cut-open fish lay waiting for her. "Kid came in here outta nowhere. Expected me to know what the hell he wanted even though he doesn't say a word!"
Klaus shrugged. "You think he's mute?"
"Definitely not mute. His first day here he squealed like a little girl when Mogens tricked him into ringing the battle bell."
The woodsman looked back towards the door. "He looked pretty upset."
"Well, yeah. I called him out on it. Told him to stop holding his tongue. I might've... been a little too harsh." As soon as those words left her mouth, Alva visibly shook them away, resetting her jaw as she got to work. "Whatever. He drives me insane. Doesn't have any respect for anyone."
"Hm." Klaus nodded. He understood the woman's frustration, though it seemed slightly misplaced. The rest of the day continued as it normally did, and Klaus put the interaction in the back of his mind. The weeks passed without another interaction with the postman, simply because Klaus had no need to go back into town for a while. He spent the majority of his time out in the clearing behind his cabin making birdhouses. It kept his mind busy. Months continued to pass, the Jesper stayed in Smeerensburg. Klaus couldn't imagine that the kid was staying willingly, since he always seemed absolutely miserable the times he traveled back into town. That didn't seem to matter, however, considering that the postman was still there whenever the cold weather shifted into something even colder, and the skies were almost always extraordinarily grey. The holiday season was fast approaching, and that meant the weather would take a massive turn for the worse.
It was on one of those bleak days whenever Klaus heard a strangled cry coming from up the hill.
He had been in the clearing, as he usually was, bundled up a little extra so that the wind would seldom bite into his skin. At first, Klaus thought the cry was something out of his imagination. Nobody else lived up here beside him. He had just been ready to dismiss the sound entirely whenever he heard the sound of a horse whinnying anxiously, its call ringing out to him like a siren. Curious, Klaus had abandoned his ax against the old tree stump and made his way back uphill. He saw a vaguely familiar cart with an old brown horse strapped to it settled a few yards away from his front door. The horse wasn't looking at the woodsman but at something else. Something on his porch. It neighed again, stamping its hooves as if shouting a warning. Klaus had started making his way towards the poor creature whenever he finally caught sight of what it was looking at.
On the old woodsman's front porch, leaning miserably against his front door, was Jesper Johansson.