Snufkin had tried to escape. Of course he had, and he had even got quite far.

During daytime, all inmates were set to work and Snufkin had for some reason been put on laundry duty. The room was huge and quite as grey as all the others, but Snufkin assumed it was also probably the only room in the institution where the air was unbearably hot and not icy cold. The constant presence of steaming water and many people working while crammed in together, made the atmosphere positively thick. The dampness and sweat stuck in their clothes and glued them to the skin or fur. It was terribly itchy.

The work was awfully heavy, but that was to be expected. Pulling clothes of different sizes up and down in enormous barrels of water before hanging them up to dry, gave your muscles quite a soreness for the rest of the week. And doing this eight hours a day in that air, left one utterly exhausted. Luckily for Snufkin, he was pretty strong and managed at least somewhat alright in the beginning. That is to say, until one day when he collapsed over one of those barrels right before lunch break. The whole upper half of his little body dived into the hot water before he was pulled up by somebody. Before he had a chance to react, that somebody began to unbutton his chest.

"Sorry, little fellow, but this is all soaked and I'm afraid you have to keep going", the larger creature said while pulling Snufkin's one-piece down until it reached his hips. There, the creature used the garment's sleeves and tied them around Snufkin like a belt. The mumrik clutched his face with both paws. Everything was so hot. He couldn't breath and it felt as if he had been boiled alive.

"Are there burns?" He mumbled through clenched fists.

A pair of strange paws pulled them away and the creature who had saved him took a sharp look at his face. Like Snufkin, this creature didn't have much fur. Those prisoners who had, were thankfully not put on laundry duty.

"I don't think so. Just pink as a piglet. But I think you ought to pour some cold water on it anyway."

In each end of the room, there were water taps in the wall for the workers to use, whenever to wash their faces from the long hours working, or simply to drink. There were no mugs or glasses available though, so you had to put your head directly under the tap. Snufkin was picked up and carried to the far corner. There the creature gently put him down and turned the water on.

"There you go."

Snufkin dived again, but this time into the the wonderful coolness. He held his head under there for no less than a minute and let the water run down his burned chest. He drank too. Oh, he would willingly drown in this! Or stay for the rest of his life. Just here, under this amazing tap.

"Thank you", he panted between the gulps.

The creature shrugged.

"Oh, it's no big deal. In here, we're all on the same ship."

They were interrupted by the lunch bell. The sympathetic creature let him wash for just a little longer, before finally turning the tap off.

"I'm sorry, but we need to go, or we'll get no food."

Snufkin didn't feel at all hungry. On the opposite, he felt a little ill. But the thought of leaving the laundry room for a while, was inviting.

However, by now Snufkin's legs were soaked as well as his chest and he was stopped right outside the door by a hemulen guard.

"Hey! You there need to change. We can't let you soak down the canteen floor!"

The other creature was let through and sent Snufkin a worried glance.

"I'm sorry", it mouthed and then he disappeared. Snufkin gazed after him until he turned a corner and was out of sight. He offered the guard a fueled glare.

"But these are the only clothes you gave me!" he shouted. "I have nothing to change into!"

For a moment, the guard looked a bit at loss as to what to do. Snufkin could just make out him mumble something about "... I don't have time for this…" and he almost dared to scoff. Almost. He wondered for how long he was supposed to wear these wet, dripping piece of so-called "clothes". Until they let him out?

"Alright, you'll stay in here then. I'll tell the others to bring some lunch back to you."

"Oh no, please! I can't stay in that room! The air is suffocating!" Snufkin couldn't bear the thought of another minute in that forsaken place. It had been such a relief to just poke his nose out the door.

"I said; you'll stay in here!" the guard thundered, and with that, he simply pushed Snufkin back inside and shut the door to his face. It locked automatically.

Frantically, Snufkin started ransacking the room for something dry. He had to find something, yet everything was wet or damp when he reached out for it. He dug into a huge pile and threw the clothes over his shoulders as he searched. In the end, he came to collide with the wall behind. To Snufkin's surprise,it looked broken. Or at least, at first it did…

It was a hidden doorway!

The pile had been stacked up under a table. It was the perfect spot for an escape way. The little square door was so discreet that at one quick glance, one would easily miss it. Snufkin nervously reached tried it. It was heavy and dusty, but he pulled it open and before him stretched a long, dark tunnel. Someone had made this long ago. Snufkin wondered if that one had succeeded in escaping and found himself very much hoping so. His dark, deep eyes darted to and fro, before he made a decision and slipped into the tempting darkness.

He was careful to shut the door behind him and then he crawled away on all four. The tunnel was so small it was impossible to stand upright, unless one were the size of Little My. He had no idea of where he was going, but hopefully somewhere closer to outside the prison and hopefully none would look for him before it was too late. He crept as fast and at the same time, as quiet as he possibly could. All the time he feared that someone would come crawling after him or hear him through the walls. He didn't dare to think about what the punishment might be if he were caught now. And still, while the thought scared him, he knew they were in the wrong. They had no right to lock him in like this and he would show them just that!

Adrenaline and will kept him going, for deep down he was very tired. Exhausted, even. The tunnel was cold like the rest of the prison. It was nice. Nice right after leaving the laundry room, but the cold would soon wear him down, he knew that. His cell was cold and the blanket didn't provide nearly enough warmth throughout the nights. The canteen was cold too and so were the marchings outside. There were no long, hot showers for any inmate and the stupid, uncomfortable clothes he was forced to wear, were far too thin. Having lost his appetite what felt like ages ago, he was only slightly aware that he might be turning into the same shape and colour as the walls… grey, cold with sharp edges everywhere.

When thinking about it closely, surely none would catch him. He was after all practically camouflaged.

He guessed the tunnel to be a broken or unused fan, or some other kind of ventilation system. Whoever escaped this way before couldn't have been much bigger than him. Another mumrik, perhaps? That thought was a little comforting.

As the first minutes passed, he couldn't hear anything except his own panting. Then suddenly, he noticed a white light coming through the small cracks in the wall, and he heard the familiar click! of a camera flash. The photographer! He was back at the photographer! If he kept going, maybe he would get to the front doors…?

He continued crawling for a bit longer, until he saw another light ahead of him and by all creatures in the world, was that birdsong he heard? At once he sped up. The light came nearer and nearer and soon he found a door. Looking through the slits, he saw none and slowly, he pushed the door open.

It was so frail it fell to the ground and Snufkin winced as the fall resulted in a light "thump". The ground itself was covered in grit, which was not good. It prevented one from moving soundlessly across it.

Without poking his head too far out, Snufkin carefully glanced in every direction. The door seemed to be placed in the middle of a shorter wall, with an edge on each side. That was bad. Someone could come running around those corners any time. A good five metres in front of him there was a high fence with barbed wire at the top. If he was careful, he could probably make it out that way with only a few scrapes.

Quiet as a mouse, he jumped down and landed on the gritty ground. Bus when set off towards the fence, the most unwelcome shout in his life made itself heard:

"Hey! You there! Stop in the name of the law!"

The voice came from his right. Snufkin guessed that the guard must have been standing still on the spot and therefore Snufkin hadn't been able to hear him moving.

He headed for the fence regardless. If he was fast enough, just maybe he still stood a chance. He threw himself at it and started climbing, but the one-piece hanging damp around his hips made it harder than it should have been, and he heard the threatening sound of fast feet steadily catching up with him from behind.

"Stop! In the name of the law! Stop!"

One of the sleeves dangling from his middle got caught in the iron and Snufkin pulled at it, desperate to get free. He was rather high up now. The hemulen might not reach him…if the little piece of fabric could just let go…

He felt the fence shake as another weight launched itself onto it. The sleeve finally gave way to Snufkin's pulls, but the knot around his waist loosened somewhat and the sleeve came dangling further down...

A second later he felt a sharp pull, and was yanked back down with a horrified gasp.

It was the same guard who had locked him inside the laundry room!

"How on earth?!" The hemulen's eyes and mouth went big. He stared at Snufkin and at the the small square door in the wall behind them. Snufkin wished he could have shut it and left it hidden for someone else to try later. Aside from that however, it felt as if his world was starting to fall apart. This wasn't supposed to happen! He had so nearly made it! He had felt the fresh air stroke his hair and heard the birds twitter, heard them shattering and...

Then it was ripped away, just like that. How, just how could he be so stupid? How could he let himself get caught? This had been his chance and it had ended up completely wasted.

He was handcuffed again and after some struggling, thrown over a shoulder to be kept in place all the way back inside. Before being taken to his cell the guard took him to the dresser's department, the one Snufkin had been to the day of his arrival. He shivered as they entered the small room and he shivered when he saw the same hemulen behind the counter.

"This one needs some dry clothes", the guard informed and put Snufkin down on the floor. The hemulen frowned upon the sight of him, then turned around to get a new one-piece. Snufkin was given clothes of the exactly same size, shape and colours as before and he was again asked to change right then and there. With his entire body shuddering at the memory of his arrival, he obeyed this time. With paws violently shaking, he undid his damp clothes and put on the new ones under their never ending piercing watch. As soon as he was done, the guard led him off into the long corridor and back to his cell. Before closing the door, he promised Snufkin he would make sure the sentence was extended.

"Things like this have its consequences, you see. And from now on you'll only work while being securely chained. Don't you worry. This won't happen again in a place like this."

Then he locked the door and Snufkin heard him walk away. In a fit of rage he got up and turned the bed over. He slammed the chair into the wall so its front legs broke and he grabbed the blanket and torn it apart. Then, realizing what he had done and that he probably would get punished for this too, he sank to the floor and cried.

Every day after that, he was fetched early in the morning and cuffed. Then he marched with the others to work and there they undid his handcuffs to replace them with a chain around one of his feet. The other end of the chain were secured to a wall or another heavy object. He would work like that until lunch and one of the other prisoners would be asked to bring some food back for him. Since it was so much fuss to cuff and uncuff him, they didn't let him go to the canteen with the others anymore. He stayed at work from 7am to 4pm with a short lunch break at one o'clock. Unless they forgot to bring anything back to him, of course. Although the same creature who had once saved him out of that barrel, usually brought back at least something. At four o'clock he was put into handcuffs again and marched back to the cell. One time he fainted during that march. He was then picked up by another prisoner and put back into the cell. Supper was at six and bedtime by nine, but Snufkin often went to bed before that. He had realized that the less time he spent awake, the better. He started to long for it all day; going to bed. It was a blessing every time even though the cot was hard and cold and he shivered all night, knees pressed up to his chest in a desperate effort to keep some warmth. His ankle hurt and itched from being cuffed for so many hours and so did his wrists.

If he were lucky, there would be soup for supper. Soup was easier to eat. If he were unlucky, there would be sandwiches. The others would go to the canteen again, but he would stay in his cell to eat alone. Again, too much fuss with the cuffs.

He suspected they put sedatives in his supper to keep him from throwing another "fit of rage". He always felt strangely dazed after supper and it wasn't simply the exhaustion be expected from working all day. His thinking got considerably slower and his body sometimes so weak he couldn't stand. It didn't really matter to him, though. He just wanted to sleep anyway. Of course, the drugs also did their job in preventing him from trying to escape again. He was too weak now.

When lying there on the cot, he longed for the forest, his tent and harmonica. Oh, if he they at least had let him keep his harmonica! Or his pipe. He had never before thought much about himself as addicted to tobacco, but lately his body had made that quite clear. Yes, he longed for a smoke. He tried to imagine it; how he stuffed his pipe, lit it and inhaled the wonderful tobacco... but his imagination was never anywhere close to the real experience.

He longed for the spring and Moominvalley and his friends. He should be with them now. The thought of Moomin sitting on the bridge waiting in vain for his arrival brought tears to his eyes. He would sit there, day after day, Snufkin knew it. And he would hear no spring tune. His friend wouldn't come and how Snufkin wished that he could tell him why! That he had planned to come. That he hadn't forgotten about or ignored him. That he really wanted to return and wished he were there right now. But Moomin wouldn't know. How could he? And so the poor troll would be sad and disappointed, thinking Snufkin had chosen not to come this year.

He buried his head in the pillow, shaking and coughing to the wall. Was he getting sick? It wouldn't surprise him, given the constant chill he felt.

And at that moment, when he lay there dreaming himself away, he didn't care.