EPILOGUE

One Year Later

The kites flew high over Kala town, fish and birds and dragons of various warm colors with glittering streamers trailing behind them against the violet sky. Tents and stands lined the main road, which had been shoveled clear of snow, and the delectable smells of roasted meat, stewed vegetables, and sweet lortsy filled the chilly air. Mumintroll sighed with contentment as he took the last bite of his hot-buttered apple, breathing steam through his nose.

"Have you got your horseshoe?" Nuuska asked from beside him. He had hardly grown at all in the last year, and Mumintroll now stood a full head above him.

"Yes, I do," he replied, holding out the tiny U of tin in his paw.

"It's our turn."

An old woman sat hunched beside a small furnace with a thick metal pan over the fire chute. She smiled a toothless smile as Nuuska put his own horseshoe in the pan. It melted quickly, and she poured it into a bucket of cold water. The three of them watched as it resolidified into an irregular lump.

"Oh, good," said the woman, reaching in to grab the lump with a pair of tongs. She held out the lump to Nuuska, who took it and dried it on his coat.

"What does it look like?" Mumintroll asked as he put his own horseshoe into the pan.

Nuuska didn't immediately reply, though he had an answer. Instead, he said, "Let's wait for yours, too."

Mumintroll's lump turned out more angular than anything, which he thought was funny. It jutted in wavering spikes in places that could almost have been an artistically-sculpted star.

"Ugh," he said disappointedly. "The last time I started seeing stars everywhere was when the comet was coming. This had better be different. In any case… come on, what's yours?"

Nuuska grinned mischievously and held his tin lump up, closing one eye and tilting his head. Mumintroll tilted his own head, and Nuuska tilted the lump the same way.

"The resemblance is uncanny," he joked and his smile wrinkled one of the pink scars on his cheek.

"I am not that thin!" retorted Mumintroll with his hands on his hips. "That looks more like a horse o-or a bird… or something!"

Nonetheless, his cheeks were hot. The old woman gave a little chuckle to herself, and they thanked her before continuing on down the road.

Music was playing within one of the halls, thumping drums and a high fiddle. Children ran past with noise-making toys and brightly-colored coats around their shoulders. As they reached the clearing surrounded by ashes and elms, familiar voices called out.

"Hei! Troll-boy! Good to see you two!"

The broad bear-like shape of the innkeeper Bjorn came quickly, and his massive hands clapped both boys on the shoulders.

"Would you believe it!" he laughed. "You're alive and well! It's good to see, good to see! How are your parents?"

His red beard had grown longer, and it was decorated for the new year with shiny beads and braids. Before Mumintroll could answer him, he was already talking again: "I'm sure they're fine as well! Oh, come on over here, you wanted to see her, I imagine."

He ushered the boys forward toward the flickering candlelight in the trees. There, Ylva sat with several children, dressed as warmly and colorfully as they were, listening to Mrs. Sarika tell stories by a stone-encircled fire. She was still monstrous, yes, but significantly less like a corpse—as she turned to look at them, they saw that the pale cloudiness of her eyes had cleared into a light gray, and her hair, long and red as it had been, was clean and brushed and a stronger shade than before.

"It's a little strange," Bjorn said, more quietly so as not to interrupt his wife. "It's not every day someone has to raise their own aunt. Funny how life works sometimes, isn't it?"

When the story was over, Ylva stood, much to the boys' wonderment. Her forearms sat in the tops of two beautifully-carved crutches, and as she hobbled forward, they saw her legs were wooden as well, painted with little birds and wolves and stars as if she wore stockings.

"Nuuska! Troll-boy!"

She was shorter than she would have been in the year before, but still very tall for someone her age. She had to lean down to hug the two of them, her arms thin but less boney.

"It's s to se !" she chirped, smiling. "Y o u haven't been sick, hav ? I had a cold this year, and it was terrible!"

"We've been just fine," Nuuska answered with a grin, and Mumintroll decided to say nothing about it. It wasn't entirely a lie, after all. There were more rough days than good ones, more nightmares than dreams, more stumbling than walking… but the good days were there, and it was a miracle to have them at all.

"It must be nice to be back with your family," said Mumintroll kindly, and Ylva nodded.

"I miss my mommy and my brother and all my friends, but it's okay. Everybody is really nice to me, and I get to eat pancakes every day!"

Nuuska nodded: "Well, that certainly makes things better, doesn't it."

They had survived together—why? Why them and none of the others? Why did they get the chance to live and enjoy festivals and eat pancakes and not the other dozen children who had been in that pit? Nuuska saw a glimmer of the same question in Ylva's eyes, but it was gone in a moment as the sky above them erupted with light and sound.

"The fireworks!" Ylva squealed, giving a little hop. "The fireworks are starting!"

She turned to the other children, and they all hurried out from the trees to the start of the street, laughing and gasping. Bjorn and his wife Sarika followed them with equal delight and waved Mumintroll and Nuuska to join them. They all stood in the cobbled street, looking up at the sky as it burst with yellows and reds and greens, the shapes of dragons and flowers exploding in an instant to hang against the stars.

Nuuska took off his hat—the ragged old thing had been patched and resewn and made all the stronger—and his copper hair jutted out at odd angles, moved by the light wind. Mumintroll found himself staring at him instead of the fireworks, his future-foretelling tin shape in one paw.

Nuuska glanced at him from the corner of his eye and smiled warmly. He reached through the short distance between them and took his paw, holding it tightly.

"Mumintroll," he said, his voice warm and firm. "Thank you for coming with me. And… and for coming after me."

The mountains, the beautiful and horrible peaks of the Kruunun Vuori, stood silently in the darkness behind them.

"Of course," said Mumintroll, squeezing his hand. "I promised I would. No matter what."

.The End.