The Winter Traveler
It wasn’t like Snufkin to be easily entranced by sounds and smells.
In his travels, especially in uncharted territory, it was best to remain wary.
That was, until, Snufkin realized that he may have been running low on supplies.
He was a Mumrik and wont to travel. It was a wanderlust that had been flowing through his blood ever since he had caught sight of the forest since he was a child, ever since he had been discovered floating inside a basket. So, it stood to reason that after many years of travel, he would have learned how to plan ahead and take inventory of his supplies often so that he wouldn’t run short.
That is what one would think.
That is not how it happened.
You see, Snufkin had been going on adventures with his dear friend Moomin to make up for his annual wintry departure. So caught up in their latest schemes, that Snufkin had forgotten to pack some essential items that he was so used to scavenging (and reluctantly accepting from Moominmamma). Now that he was far from Moomin Valley and in territory that Snufkin scarcely remembered visiting years ago, Snufkin found himself in a bit of a mood.
He was torn between blaming himself (or worse, Moomin) for his lack of necessary provisions when he had caught wind of smoke rising lazily in the distance. Where there was smoke, there was sure to be some sort of beast handling said fire. Perhaps if he asked nicely...
With that thought in mind, the Mumrik quickly trotted to his new destination.
The first thing that Snufkin noticed was that the creature who sat in front of a raging campfire was that he was tall, scarily so. The tall creature was a young man with snow blond hair, kind eyes that looked violet in the right light, and a small smile. He wore clothing that was hardy and practical for the environment (a fact that Snufkin admired, perhaps this man was a traveler like himself), but in a style that seemed far more complicated than Snufkin’s own cloak and hat. Upon closer inspection, Snufkin realized something that should have been obvious right from the start.
This tall creature was a human.
Throughout his travels, Snufkin learned so much and so little about humans.
They possessed no sense of imagination, were very senseless creatures, and way too tall for his tastes. In fact, if Snufkin were to hazard a guess, he would say that the very tip of his hat could barely graze the man’s knee (and that was also including if he were stand atop his tiptoes!).
Snufkin also heard of humans that were prone to misdeeds and moments of anger and violence. They chewed their words and spat them out to manipulate the weak and take advantage of the folk that lived in the wood. Humans were creatures who were too vile and too untrustworthy to ask food or shelter from.
Carefully, Snufkin was about to turn tail and head back when he heard the slight chuckle from the man in front of the fire.
“You can come out, if you like.”
Snufkin, although he retained a lot more common sense than all of the inhabitants in Moomin Valley combined, couldn’t stop himself. There was this demand in the man’s voice that had the young Mumrik’s fur rising in indignation.
He didn’t like being told what to do.
“No, thank you. I’d rather not.” Snufkin’s voice was strong and curt, but soft enough to be considered polite.
The man chanced a look in Snufkin’s general direction after having heard the Mumrik’s voice. “And what’s a small child like you doing by yourself?” The man gestured to a seat right next to the campfire, a bowl of something hearty and nutritious could be found steaming under the guidance of the dancing flames beneath. “Come and eat.”
Snufkin shook his head before replying, “I’m not a child.”
The man startled a bit at his frosty tone before an indulging smile appeared on his round face. It was a nice smile, not at all becoming of creatures who had the reputation to cage and torture young forest folk. Such a pleasant expression almost caught Snufkin off guard, but he stood firm.
“Well, Mr. Not a Child, my name is Timo and it’s awfully lonely eating by one’s self. Won’t you join me? It’s nearing winter season.”
Snufkin thought for a moment before deeming that this man couldn’t be all bad if he took to his curt tone in a light-hearted manner and offered his name without prompting.
“My name is Snufkin.” The Mumrik stepped out of the shadows. “And...and I would like to have some dinner with you if you don’t mind.”
His voice had gone a bit soft at that last part. For so long, he had been the one to always be that one person to have their wits about him, to have a plan that would inevitably save the day. He was independent. He was his own person. Coddling was something he would rather not have to undergo—especially when coming from strangers.
“Well, you’re rather shorter than I thought.” The man mused to himself. When Snufkin had first stepped into the light, his violet eyes had widened and he seemed to look upon the lad with careful contemplation. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bowl and utensils with you? My own set would be too large.”
Snufkin rummaged in his rucksack before holding out a comically small bowl and utensils when compared to the man’s large hands.
Timo smiled before ladling out a whopping amount of stew into Snufkin’s bowl.
At first, Snufkin had taken small, polite bites out of courtesy and to see if the food tasted as good as it smelled.
It was better than what he had expected.
The stew was rich and hearty, flavors all melding together to create an extravaganza for the tastebuds.
What were small bites became comical swallows that would have offended Moominmamma, but had the stranger urging him to merely slow down before ladling more of the precious stew into the Mumrik’s bowl.
Once Snufkin had eaten his fill, Timo spoke.
“Is there any particular reason why you decided to travel by yourself? The woods aren’t particularly kind to those ill prepared to face winter.” Concern laced the man’s tone, but it was the curiosity that had Snufkin looking into his eyes in surprise.
“Well,” Snufkin measured his words carefully, “truth be told, I’m actually leaving for the south where the coming of winter isn’t as dangerous. Or cold.”
Snufkin had expected the man to pepper him with questions in an ill attempt to parent him, but again, he was pleasantly surprised to see that this human merely nodded his head.
“Good idea, that. I sometimes head down south in the winter.” Timo wrinkled his nose. “Most of the time, it’s for disastrous meetings with colleagues, though. At the very least, it’s good to spend time with old friends.”
“Disastrous meetings?”
Timo nodded sagely. “The very worst.”
Snufkin wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to that, but he found himself nodding along with Timo.
“How about you? Have you any good friends you visit?”
A faint smile lit up the Mumrik’s face as he recalled of his best friend, his dearest Moomin.
“Ah,” the man breathed in appreciation. “A loved one, no doubt.”
“W-What do you—? It’s not—“
A thousand and one emotions filled Snufkin’s very being as he tried to process what Timo had just said. There was simply no reason to get worked up over something that wasn’t necessarily true but not necessarily wrong, and he wasn’t getting worked up, but his face was—
“Are you all right, little one?”
“Snufkin.” The Mumrik couldn’t help but snap. “My name is Snufkin.”
Much to Snufkin’s ever growing displeasure the man indulged him with a smile before placing a lid onto the top of his pot. Night had long since came to take day’s place and with it, Snufkin knew that he had to go and set up camp elsewhere.
“Going already?”
“Yes. It’s time for me to go. Thank you for the food.”
“Thank you for the company.”
And, with the grace of a butterfly alighting onto a flower, the blond man took a knee and extended a hand.
For a moment, Snufkin studied the callouses that marred Timo’s fingers, of the stark blue veins that rose above the skin. His hand was held steady and unwavering, a welcome invitation and a goodbye all at once. Deeming it a necessary evil, Snufkin also extended a hand—his much smaller limb completely engulfed in the man’s own.
And for a moment, Snufkin could feel a sort of wind tousle his hair, of warm sun and brisk breeze pass through him. He could taste the wintry cold and the warmth of the coming spring. Voices, he could hear them in his head. There was laughter. There were tears. There was chaos. There was harmony. The land beneath his feet seemed all together too solid, and yet, at the same time, something trembled, vibrated.
For one long moment, Snufkin was aware of only Timo and of himself.
And Timo broke his hold.
Humans, Snufkin decided as he scurried away into the forest’s hold, were one of the strangest beasts he had ever encountered.