CHAPTER FOUR: THE LONG WALK

The two dog-eared hunters sat morosely in the back of the pub, behind a wooden half-wall with crystalline frosted glass on top. It was the middle of the night, and the insomniac bartender was content to leave them be while listening to his radio show.

"It's embarrassing's what it is," said old Keijo, his thick fur hanging over his eyes. "The damn thing leaves a trail, an' yet we can't find it! What'd my father think of me now? Oh, stupid, stupid."

Young Karlo stopped his bread-munching for a moment to pat his grandpa's shoulder: "There, there, ukki. It's my fault. I-I'm just no good at tracking, I guess."

"No, no, it's my fault, son. Ah jus' never got my smell back after all that fightin' back in '18. How'm ah supposed t' teach ya when ah can't do it myself? Oy vey… Ah'm never coming back from this, am ah."

There was a knock on the wall, and the both of them turned, ready to be annoyed. Instead, they were quite happy.

"Muminpapa!" said Karlo, wiping his paws on his coveralls as he stood to greet him. "How are you? What's the situation at the house?"

"Christ in a cracker, Muminpeikko," said Keijo, "what happened to yer arm?"

"It's all very serious, I'm afraid," answered Papa, touching his wrapped arm tenderly, "and I'm in a hurry, so I'll be brief—you know that creature?"

Both hunters looked at each other and sighed: "Yes, we know it."

"The boy it attacked, from the campsite we looked at—he's been taken."

"What?" asked Karlo incredulously. "Taken by…?"

"Yes."

"It took him?" asked Keijo. "From—from yer own house?"

"And we want him back. My wife and I… no, all of us were hoping you might help."

"Oh," said Karlo, turning back to his food, "I don't know. We were just talking about—"

"Of course we will!" insisted Keijo, standing up too quickly and cracking his knees. "Tha' little rascal gave me coffee once. Ah owe 'im my life!"

"But ukki, your nose—"

"I have five other senses to rely on, boy! Let's go!"

"Five?"

"Six, if ya count the ghosts. C'mon, move it! We'll pack up an' be at yer place, papa-boy, in half an hour!"

…

Nuuska awoke folded under the creature's arm as its incessant trot slowed to a halt. The darkness that had surrounded them for the whole trip had shallowed, every sound reflected back at them as the creature lifted him up by the middle and held him out, looking him over.

A cave, Nuuska realized, his head swimming, ribs aching. They'd come into a cave.

The creature made a gurgling sound as it found its voice and cast its eyes downward as it teasingly called out, " !"

Nuuska looked down just in time to see the yawning pit below him as he was dropped.

He should have hit the bottom. He should have fallen straight on to his outstretched hands and shattered them. But something caught him, something leathery and hard that let him go just as quickly as it had grabbed him, rolling him gently away on to the cold stone floor.

He lied there a long moment, everything in him aching, his skin pulling apart from the stitches, his bruised ribs jostled and unhappy with his labored breathing. But it was as he kept breathing that he noticed the smell. It was one he knew well.

Slowly, he blinked the fireworks out of his eyes and pushed himself on to his better side to look around. The silhouette sitting against the wall, staring at him, nearly stopped his tired heart. He scooted away, trying not to panic, and touched something moist, something stinking and rotting and still attached to bone. He yelled and moved away from that, only to rattle something else held together only by sinew and thin-worn cloth. Finally, a solid wall presented itself to his back, and he pressed himself against it, shutting his eyes tightly.

If he opened them again, they would be fully-adjusted, he knew, and he did not want to see what was down here with him. Unfortunately, he did not have a choice.

"Y o u ar ."

…

The bitter cold bit into them with every step out of the Valley and along the path headed north. With the days so short and the sun barely above the horizon, they resolved to hike well into the night. Young Karlo kept the head lantern, his keen eyes avoiding every pitfall, loose stone, and traitorous tree root, the others following in a single line behind him. Mumintroll stared at the deep darkness all around them and felt bile rise in his throat as he imagined the visceral fear of running through this place hurt and hunted. Papa gripped his shoulder from behind.

The first camp they made was in a clearing not far from where the attack had happened, though Papa and the hunters kept that to themselves.

"We need to keep going!" argued Mumintroll desperately. "We can't stop so soon!"

Mama took his backpack from his shoulders: "You're tired, dear. We all are, and it won't do anyone any good to get there with no energy. How are you going to fight a monster if you haven't eaten?"

Mumintroll burned inside but knew she was right. He sat morosely down beside the smoldering kindling Lilla-My had started.

Silje went around to everyone and made sure they weren't showing signs of hypothermia or frostbite, which amused the lot of them. She said nothing of their situation, nothing of herself, her thin mouth taut with focus, brows professionally furrowed.

"Haven't you got mittens?" she asked Keijo. "Your paws are going blue."

"Oh, tha's just how they are," the old man chuckled. "Mah gran'parents thought they were royals, see? Real bluebloods. Lucky tha' Karlo got an extra fish in the gene pool, ahaha."

After a small meal, most of them slept all together under a tent. Papa sat near the fire and kept watch—though he'd failed at this in the past, he would not this time. Near midnight, Mumintroll wandered out of the tent and sat beside him.

"Oh," said Papa. "Can't you sleep?"

Mumintroll shook his head. They sat in silence for a long while, watching the fire, listening to the crackle of the pinewood.

"You know," said Papa thoughtfully, leaning on his knees, "the friends I had at your age are all gone."

Mumintroll looked up at him. His eyes were far away.

"They all went together. The only reason I wasn't with them was because your mother and I had just had you. I like to think that if I'd been there, things might have gone differently. Maybe I could have heard the storm coming, or… maybe I could have steered the ship out of danger. But in reality, I probably would have died with them."

He blinked the firelight out of his eyes and turned to his son, his grip tightening around the stick he carried.

"We will get him back," he said lowly. "I promise. We will."

…

The comet was nearing the Valley, and his legs were too short to run any faster. Mumintroll had expected to go alone to look for Sniff in the woods surrounding their shelter in the cave. He had expected everyone else to stay with Mama, safe and cool and waiting. But he wasn't alone.

"Mumintroll!"

Nuuska had come running from the cave, the sky red and angry, a massive roaring bearing down on them. The world was ending, and yet he had come to help him.

Mumintroll would remember that. Even after they'd found Sniff and gone back to the cave to hide. Even after the comet passed and the sea came flooding back into its place. Even after life started again and years and years passed, and all that would happen had happened, he would remember.

Mumintroll awoke with tears frozen to his fur. He turned over, away from the rest of the sleeping pack, and silently ached.

…

The second day came and went much like the first. Lilla-My ran ahead in the dim daylight to kick rocks and chase ice toads and look over steep cliffs, much to Mama's dismay. Karlo, bless his soul, tried to lighten the mood and pass the time by telling stories about ex-girlfriends and camping trips that had gone hilariously wrong. Mama, Papa, and Old Keijo were the only ones to laugh. They stopped briefly twice to rest and eat cheese and bread. Papa and Silje consulted the map often, checking the compass against the sun and stars.

Oh, the stars…

Mumintroll gazed up at them as they passed between the looming clouds.

"I wonder what the Birds' Road actually is," said Nuuska, looking upward one summer night. "I once heard someone else call it a 'Milky Way', and someone else said it was 'Heaven's River.' But what is it really, do you think?"

The smear of light was there against the night, speckled with shining frost. Every year, they had watched the birds follow it south, marking their way to warmer nesting grounds. It was the same path that led Nuuska away as winter encroached, then led him back home when the spring crept in. Whether it was a river of a billion stars, smeared milk, or a tear-soaked wedding veil, it didn't matter—it would lead Mumintroll to Nuuska just as well as it led Nuuska to Mumintroll every year without fail.

…

It was dark, of course, when the group arrived in Kala town at the end of the third day, sore, tired, and chilled to the bone. The snow was dry and powdery, and the Kruunun Vuori stood sharply against the sky. Golden firelight shone from the second-story windows of every building they passed, people having their suppers and settling in for the night. Except for one.

"Hei," said a burly man in a friendly tone, leaning out of his ground-floor window. He thumbed the tobacco in his pipe-mouth as he motioned it toward the group. "Long walk?"

"Yessir," said Keijo, blowing his bangs out of his eyes for a moment to see. "We come down from up the Valley, huntin' a mighty frightful thing."

"Hunting?" asked the man, and he looked down at the chilly and grumpy Lilla-My. "Teaching the little ones to shoot, eh?"

Lucky for him, she was too tired to retort, and Mama patted her head. Papa ahemmed and touched his hat to the man: "I don't suppose you know where we could have a bite to eat?"

"Oh," said the man with a puff, "of course! Come right on in!"

"Wait, we couldn't intrude on your home!" Papa insisted.

"My home is an inn, sir. It's made to be intruded on."

Sure enough, looking up, there was a sign hanging over the door which read "The Bear and Bird Inn" with a carving of a bear and a bird curled cozily up together. The group all exchanged a relieved glance and went inside.

Oh, the sighs they let out at the warmth of the place! Keijo and Karlo went immediately to the large, stone-built fireplace and put their behinds to it, Mama settling wearily into one of the sturdy, carved rocking chairs. Papa and Mumintroll stood just within the door, looking in awe at all the souvenirs mounted on the walls—taxidermied ducks of various species with wings spread in flight, photographs of expeditious collectives, a rowing oar with names etched in, an impressive shotgun, and the massive hanging fur of an anomalously-giant black bear. Lilla-My and Silje stared up at the bear skull on the fireplace mantle.

"Sarika, mussukka!" called the innkeeper as he knocked the ashes from his pipe outside the window. "We have customers!"

There was a high, muffled reply from upstairs and light footsteps above their heads. The innkeeper shut the window.

"Make yourselves at home," he said to Papa and the others. "I imagine you'll be wanting rooms to sleep, too?"

"Will you have room for all of us?" Mama asked worriedly from her chair.

The innkeeper puffed out his cheeks, sighing, and said, "Oh, it might be a squeeze, but we can make room for all of you. It would be a shame to leave anyone out in the cold."

Everyone began to dig in their pockets to pay, when from outside there was a long, pained, distant scream. The room went silent, listening, and then it was done.

"What is that?" asked Silje sternly. "Should we call the police?"

The innkeeper shook his head: "No, no, don't worry too much. It's the wind coming over the mountains."

He eyed Lilla-My and Mumintroll sitting wide-eyed on the hearth: "Or if you're a naughty little one, it's the Varjostaja coming to get you!"

To his surprise, the entire group turned to him with true terror in their eyes.

"What is that?" Silje demanded.

"Is it a creature of some kind?" Mama asked worriedly.

"A monster?" urged Lilla-My.

There were steps on the staircase by the fireplace, and a square woman in a bright red woolen dress scoffed as she touched-down to the floor: "It's a fairytale. Pay him no mind."

She touched the innkeeper's arm with her knitting needles and chided, "Don't frighten new guests, please."

"I was only trying to be silly."

"Read the room, bhalu. At least offer some tea, first."

"Yes! Of course—" the innkeeper cleared his throat apologetically "—would you all like some tea?"

The unease in the room did not let-up, and it was old Keijo who replied, "Would tha' be black or green?"

…

Everyone ate what was generously made for them, a simple meal cooked quickly so late in the evening. Mama and Papa ate quietly. Lilla-My scarfed everything down so quickly that she might as well have eaten the plate, and Silje gave a disapproving sigh. Mumintroll finished his cup and forced down a pancake before daring to ask what was burning in his throat.

"Mr. Innkeeper?"

The large man pouring more hot water into the teapot on their table gave a chuckle: "The name is Bjorn, young one."

"Mr. Bjorn… what was the thing you were talking about? The… the thing screaming on the mountain?"

"Oh," said Bjorn. "I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to frighten you all. It's as my wife said, just a local legend meant to scare bad children into behaving."

Mumintroll gripped the table's edge: "What is it?"

"Now, now, I don't want to give you nightmares or anything."

"I'd like to know, too," said Papa, patting his mouth with a napkin. "That is, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, I just—well, you all looked so frightened!"

"Well, the sound was quite frightening, you know," said Mama with a polite smile.

"Yes, I-I suppose it is, when you're not used to it. Alright, let me just…"

Bjorn set down the hot water kettle on a coaster, pulled a spare chair from under the stairs, and sat backwards on it, facing the table. All eyes were upon him as he sighed and considered where to begin. Finally, he cleared his throat and said:

"A long time ago, when my parents were children, there used to be a little church out by the pond where everyone would go to pray on Sundays. The preacher there was a man who, for a very long time, everyone loved him. He was seen as a kind, caring person who loved to work with children, even tutoring them in private when they had troubles at school.

"Well… children started to go missing. One in one year, two the next, three the next. My aunt was about ten at the time, and she noticed one day that one of her friends' hair ribbons was on the floor of the preacher's cellar—she had been down there getting potatoes to help his wife with dinner. She excused herself and hurried home to show my grandmother what she'd found because, you see, her friend had disappeared just the month before. My grandmother immediately notified the elders, and before dawn the next day, there were police tearing the preacher's home apart looking for the children. And they found them.

"After burying what was left of them, he was sentenced to burn for his crimes, and he did. What no one knew was that he wouldn't die.

"See, the land the church was built on used to be the home of faeries and goblins, and it was always said that they might have left things behind when they fled the construction. The story goes that the preacher found something, something wicked, and though he burned as any man would, he became something else. They say he still wanders the mountains, preying on children who are out alone at night, taking them off to his abyssal home to feed on forever."

He took a deep breath and grinned, "It's all nonsense, of course, fairytales. My own aunt, the same girl who led to his death, disappeared not long after, and my grandfather swore she must have just run away. There's no such thing as monsters, after all. Faeries, goblins, dragons, sure. But not monsters. Not like that."

"Not like what?" Silje asked, brows furrowed.

"Well, you know," Bjorn said, waggling his head. "Long-legged, long-armed. Glowing eyes like fireflies and can lure you out with the sound of a crying baby. The kind that scream and howl when they scent their prey, that sort of thing."

Papa looked to Mama looked to Papa, then to Mumintroll.

"What if they did exist?" asked Karlo, his ears pressed nervously back. "Where would they be? Like, where would their home be?"

"I guess on the mountain," said Bjorn amusedly, scratching his red beard. "There are plenty of caves up there, especially past the snowline. I bet a creature like the Varjostaja could live up there for ages without being found."

Mama wrung her hands together: "What about the children? Do children still go missing?"

Bjorn shook his head: "Not here anymore. We have a curfew."

Mumintroll's grip on the table cracked, and he stood suddenly.

"So you all knew!" he shouted. "You knew there was something taking people, and you didn't do anything about it!"

"Hold on now—"

"Did you even look for them?!"

Mama stood and took his arm: "Sit back down, dear. There's no need to yell."

"Isn't there?!" Mumintroll argued, tears in his eyes. "Mama, they could have done something years ago, and they didn't, and now Nuuska is gone! This didn't have to happen!"

"But it has. And yelling isn't going to fix it."

Mumintroll stared at her and knew she was right, but he couldn't admit it, not right now, not now that he was standing and crying and being rude in front of everyone. He turned away and ran down the hall toward the rooms they'd put their bags down in, shutting the door with his back. He slid down to the floor and sobbed, arms over his head, knees to his chest.

It wasn't fair. That was the only thought he could muster with words—it wasn't fair, it's not fair. He wished he were home, that he was in bed, fast asleep. He wished Nuuska was with him, that it was spring and he had him in his arms, safe and sound. He wished that the horrible monster that had disrupted the flow of the year, that had put everything on its head, that had stolen so many children over so many years—he wished that it was dead. He wished it would have died when it was supposed to, or perhaps that it would die now in whatever horrid way it saw fit. Really, he felt this wish the most strongly. If he were honest, it frightened him.

But Mumintroll did not want to be honest right now. He morphed the fright into anger, righteous anger, and held it tight. If he didn't, he could not possibly survive.

There was a small knock at the door. The anger shriveled and squirmed in his chest.

"Hey," came Lilla-My's voice. "Let me in."

It was not a demand, but it was not a suggestion. Mumintroll sniffled and scooted just far enough from the door for him to open it. Lilla-My squeezed in and shut the door again. She stared at him a moment, hands on her hips, then sighed and sat down beside him. She stiffly leaned her head against his arm, and they watched the darkness until Mumintroll's breathing returned to normal.

"You're right, you know," Lilla-My said.

Mumintroll looked down at her: "I am?"

"The people here could have fixed this ages ago, and they didn't. It's ridiculous."

Mumintroll sniffled and sighed, "No, I… I guess it's not, really. No one wants to face scary things. I understand that. But I don't get why no one went looking for their children, for their friends!"

"Cowards, all of them," said Lilla-My without mercy, "or worse—idiots."

The stark crown of the mountains was visible through the room's small window, what little moonlight there was shining down. Snow was being blown in powdery mist down the mountainsides into the treeline, and the wind could be heard lowly howling. Mumintroll listened. His heart ached.

"We should go looking," he said quietly. "We shouldn't be sitting here, eating, drinking, none of it. We shouldn't be warm when he's not."

Lilla-My scoffed: "Speak for yourself, you sorry lump. I'll eat and drink and sleep comfortably if it means I'm strong enough to sink my teeth into that damned monster again."

"Watch your mouth, My."

"No."

They looked at each other. The same burning Mumintroll felt, he saw burning in her, in the spasming muscle under one eye and the clenching of her jaw. She, like him, had been grinding her teeth in her sleep the past several nights.

"They'll notice if we're gone," he said.

"We can wait until they've all gone to sleep," she said.

"Have you got a plan?" he asked.

She gave a short, humorless laugh: "Since when do I not?"