Chapter 1

Snufkin, a small mumrik of eleven, hid behind his mother's skirts as she knocked on the wooden door to the tall, vaguely onion-shaped hut. His mother, known far and wide as Mymble, told him that this neck of the woods was where his father lived, or at the very least where he wandered. She also told him that should his father be okay with it, he would be living with him from then on.

"Why must I go live with him, mother?" He had asked her at the time. She told him that he was far more a mumrik than a mymble and should be around his father for the coming years as he'd know things she couldn't even begin to fathom.

His stomach still fluttered at the idea. He'd never been away from his mother for too long and now he was going to be apart from her for who knows how long. Still, meeting his father was an exciting prospect. Would he have a tail like Snufkin? Would he look a lot like him? Would they both like fishing? The Mymble had nothing but glowing praises for his father, the Joxter. She went on about how he was so charming and funny and adventurous, and how'd he'd take Snufkin on a real adventure someday.

The lock on the door clicked. Snufkin stiffened, his hands getting clammy and his tail wrapping around his leg.

"Joxter!" Mymble declared, barging across the threshold before the door had opened all the way.

Snufkin heard an exclamation of surprise and a squawk of pain as the Joxter was pulled into one of his mother's infamous embraces.

"Mymble!" The Joxter declared. "What a wonderful surprise!"

Snufkin still couldn't see him, Mymble still in the way. He could see his shoes though, dangling midair as the Joxter returned the hug. They were long and red and in need of a buffing, and the laces were a loose tripping hazard.

The Joxter was released from the Mymble's arms and it was only then that he noticed a third person in the room.

"Who's this?" He asked, running a furry, clawed hand through his unruly black hair.

"This," Mymble said, getting behind her son and giving him a little push on the back. "is your son, Joxter. Snufkin, say 'hello'."

Snufkin stepped forward, took off his green, wide-rimmed hat and looked up at the tall mumrik. "H-hello." He said, averting his gaze. "My name is Snufkin."

Joxter, for his part, didn't move. In fact, he looked more like a stunned animal than a mumrik in that moment. "I have a son!?" He yelled, his long, black tail straightening behind him as he pulled at his hair. "How? When?" He aimed his questions at Mymble, who couldn't help but smirk, somewhat knowingly.

"Well, I believe you know how, we did…" She glanced at her son. "dance quite a few times. And as for when, well I'd say it's been nearly twelve years at this point."

The Joxter had many more questions, all of which the Mymble answered whilst preparing a pot of tea.

"Well we've been travelling, Joxter- you don't have any sugar, do you?" She asked, cutting off her explanation of why he never knew about Snufkin until now.

"No, I don't." Joxter replied, head in hands at the kitchen table. He inhaled, eyeing his small son out of the corner of his eye. Snufkin hadn't moved an inch from his earlier spot, heavily doubting he was even wanted in the onion-shaped house at all.

"Why are you here now, then?" He asked, looking at Mymble's back.

"Oh, well I think Snufkin should stay with you for a while." She said, sipping her drink. For a minute, her slurping was the only sound in the hut.

"Why?" Joxter asked as if he were being asked to mind a pair of dirty old boots.

"A boy should know his father." Mymble said, setting her empty cup down. "And he's getting to an age where I can't help him the way you can. Mumriks and mymbles are just too different." She sighed.

"I really don't think it's a good idea." Joxter said.

A tense silence followed. Joxter bit at his nails, Mymble had her back turned to both of them. Snufkin sniffled. Both adults looked at him, both with surprise.

"Snufkin?" The Mymble said, shuffling up to her child. "Is something the matter?"

Snufkin shook his head, fists wiping away the tears in his eyes before they fell. "N-no." He answered, his voice cracking.

"Oh, we should've spoken about this in private." Mymble lamented, drawing her son into her chest.

The Joxter exhaled, his nails clicking against the table like raindrops on a roof. After another minute filled with only Snufkin's occasional hiccup, he spoke. "Fine, he can stay."

The Mymble grinned. "Did you hear that Snufkin, he said you can stay."

Snufkin didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The Joxter clearly had extreme reservations about getting to know his son. What if he didn't like Snufkin? What if he decided he didn't want him anymore, but his mother was out somewhere they couldn't find her, so he was just left out in the woods? His mother was notoriously difficult to track.

"Mm-hm." He finally answered.

Not much later, the Mymble decided it was time for her to take her leave. Snufkin was still very nervous about the whole affair. Even after his mother reassured him time and time again, he still felt a stone drop into his gut as he watched her disappear into the dense forest.

After she was out of sight, the Joxter locked the door, leaving the key on a hook that was far too high for him to reach.

"So…" Joxter trailed off, completely flummoxed as to where to go from there. "Are you hungry?"

Snufkin was not, he and his mother had eaten some very nice blueberries not an hour before. He nodded anyway.

The Joxter nodded back, sauntering into the kitchen. Snufkin sat at the table as his father placed a pot on the stove and boiled a piece of meat.

"Pa-, um Mr. Joxter, sir?" Snufkin floundered, not knowing what was okay to call his father by.

"Joxter is fine." He said, taking the seat across from Snufkin. It was the first time Snufkin looked directly at him. He was definitely furrier than him, scruffy even, with his hair looking greasy and unkept, looking as if it were shaped by wearing a hat for too long. Snufkin wore his hat a lot too, but his mother always had him wash his hair and generally clean himself a lot more than the Joxter was apparently used to.

"Where, where can I sleep?" He asked. He really was quite a bit tired after the long journey he and his mother had gone on. They didn't know exactly where the Joxter lived so they had to do a lot of wandering to even find someone local who knew.

"I only have the one bed." He answered, looking above. Snufkin followed his gaze and saw that the entire upper level was on a platform jutting out of the wall halfway up the hut. It didn't look to have any support beams or anything keeping it up. "I'm sure it'll do us both until I figure something else out." He shrugged. "Are you tired?"

Snufkin nodded, his legs and feet aching more now that he'd stopped moving for a bit.

"We'll eat, and then you can sleep." The Joxter stated, standing and tending to the food again. It wasn't terrible, the boiled meat tasted vaguely of chicken. The Joxter had thrown some carrots and lettuce into the pot and served those too.

The Joxter led Snufkin up the stairs that looked to be no more than planks hammered into the wall.

"You can leave your things in this." He said, pulling a dusty chest from under the bed and pushing it up against the wall. He emptied it of a few books and a moth eaten coat, shoving them under the bed. "Out of sight, out of mind!" He chorused, shooting Snufkin a small grin.

Snufkin thanked him, tossing his hat into the chest before shoving his coat in there too. He left his shoes next to the chest. He flexed his toes and sighed with relief. His soles were aching. The bed looked very comfortable. Even sitting on it he could tell it was just layer after layer of furs and feather stuffed sheets.

Joxter pulled the covers back for him and Snufkin crawled in, feeling as if he were floating on a cloud rather than lying on a bed. He drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the nerves of the day settling. When he woke up it was when Joxter was pulling the covers back to crawl in next to him. Looking out a window he could tell that it was much later now.

"Sorry if I woke you." Joxter whispered, curling into the furs. "Just go back to sleep, we have things to do in the morning."

Snufkin didn't remember being woken up by the time the sun rose. He didn't even remember where he was, he only knew he was somewhere new. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes but found he couldn't move very much. He was pressed against something warm and hairy. It took him a moment to realise that he had curled into his father's chest during the night and that the Joxter had curled around him.

Snufkin didn't move much more, he didn't want to wake the Joxter up and start their first day together with him being cranky.

He drifted in out of consciousness a few times before Joxter woke up. He looked stunned for a moment before remembering why there was another person in his bed.

"Good morning." He said through a yawn, throwing the covers away. As the Joxter stood, Snufkin could see that he had thick, black fur going down his back and arms. As he stretched his claws extended, sharp and pointed. He looked at his own hands, wondering if he'd ever get claws like those.

"Come on, boy. We're going to the lake." The Joxter said, pulling on his red coat.

"How come?" He asked, copying him.

"Water." He stated, going down the stairs. "And a bath." He added.

The Joxter brought with them five wooden buckets and a long, thick rod of wood with deep grooves at either end. The lake wasn't far away at all, only a couple minutes' walk away from the hut. Without another word, the Joxter stripped off his clothes and waded into the shallows, shivering.

"Well come on, you're not gonna get clean by standing in the dirt." Joxter said, running his wet paws through his hair. Snufkin could see that the Joxter's fur went down his legs too and completely covered his feet.

"R-right!" Snufkin replied, stripping his clothes too and wading into the fresh river water. He watched as the Joxter scrubbed and unknotted his fur, even in the hard-to-reach places. Snufkin looked at his own back, wondering if he'd grow fur like that too. At least he had a tail like Joxter if nothing else.

When they were done, Joxter basked atop a nearby boulder, letting the morning sun dry him. Snufkin scampered to climb up too, but he slipped. The Joxter caught his wrist and pulled him up.

"Thank you." He said, lying down on the warmed rock.

"Mm." The Joxter replied, eyes closed.

They lay in comfortable silence for a long while, Snufkin was sure that his father had fallen asleep again. When he scooted closer to see, one of Joxter's blue eyes snapped open at him.

Snufkin recoiled, tail wrapping around his leg.

The Joxter sighed and shifted to lie on his side, propping his head up on his fist. "I think we should get to know each other a bit more." He said, his tail drifting over to Snufkin's. "What do you like?"

Snufkin unfurled his tail, letting it drift with his father's. "Fishing." He answered simply. "And playing the harmonica!" He added.

"Fishing and playing the harmonica? Well, there's a lot of space for those around here." The Joxter said. "I do fish a good bit. Having another rod in the water will be helpful." Joxter smiled.

Snufkin beamed, happy that their first day was already getting off to a good start.

After the sun dried them, the Joxter had Snufkin carry a pail of water back to the cabin while he carried four. The Joxter had the buckets hanging off the long rod he brought, bearing its weight on his shoulders. Snufkin could barely carry the one with both hands, he marvelled at how the Joxter effortlessly carried four times the volume.

They emptied the pails into a tank under the kitchen sink. They made the trip to the lake and back four more times, and by the time they were done, Snufkin was exhausted, the palms of his hands stinging.

"Have you ever hunted before?" Joxter asked as he carried the whistling kettle from the stove to the table.

Snufkin shook his head. "Not much. Mother and I usually had berries and fruits. I did catch a rabbit once though." He said, leaving out the detail where he let the little creature go later.

"Hm. Well, I'll show you how to hunt a bit while you're here. We'll mostly eat fish and vegetables and fruits but having a juicy piece of meat every now and then is nice. Think you'd have any skill with a bow and arrow?" The Joxter asked, pouring the tea into two cups.

"No, I shouldn't think so. I've never used one." Snufkin answered, his previously elated feeling deflating after realising how much he didn't know.

"That's fine, I can make one for your size. Mine would be far too big, you see." Joxter pushed the cup towards Snufkin, sipping his own noisily.

"Thank you, Joxter." Snufkin replied, sipping too much of his tea and scalding his tongue, but he hid his pain.

Later that night, after a dinner that was the same as the previous night's, Snufkin and Joxter sat on a fur rug in front of the blazing fire-place. Joxter had taken out a pan-flute and played a few notes, Snufkin answering back with his harmonica. They shot songs at each other for almost an hour, by which time the sun had set and Snufkin was yawning, his notes becoming more and more out of tune.

The Joxter chuckled. "I think it's time for bed, Snufkin." He said, setting his pan-flute to the side.

"No, I can keep going." Snufkin said as he tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

Joxter reached out and plucked Snufkin's harmonica before he could blow into it again. Scowling, Snufkin tried to grab it back but his father held it out of reach.

"See, you're getting cranky." Joxter said, leaving the harmonica with his flute. "Time to go to bed. I'll join you after I've cleaned and locked up." He said, helping Snufkin get to his feet.

"Okay Joxter." Snufkin pouted.

"That's a good boy." The grown mumrik said, turning away to the kitchen. Snufkin made sure he was on the other side of the room before hiding his harmonica in his coat. He did get ready for bed, leaving his things in his chest, but he made sure to keep an eye on Joxter from the top level, watching as he scrubbed the pot and plates they used for dinner, locked the door and made sure the fire was out.

Using only very small breaths, he blew into his instrument. He didn't see the Joxter's ears twitch in his direction, but he did notice when his father started making his way up the stairs. He hid his harmonica under his pillow and faced away from the Joxter, thinking that he had completely outfoxed the man.

"Snufkin?" The Joxter said, not getting ready for bed as Snufkin thought he would.

"Yes, Joxter?" Snufkin exaggerated how tired he sounded, making his eyes seem more lidded than they actually were.

"What's under your pillow?" Joxter asked, arms crossed and foot tapping on the wooden floor.

"Nothing." Snufkin lied. He felt a stone drop into his gut. He'd been so careful and quiet, hadn't he? How did the Joxter know?

"Are you sure about that?" Joxter walked around to Snufkin's side of the bed, glaring down at the young half-mumrik with his piercing blue eyes.

"Yes." He answered meekly, refusing to meet his father's gaze. He hoped Joxter would just take his word for it and drop the matter.

"Alright, then sit up and put your hands on your head." Snufkin was caught, he knew it. He did as he was told and only listened as his father sighed, having lifted the pillow and found the silver instrument.

"Joxter I'm-" Snufkin was cut off from his apology when he saw a flash of silver streak across his eyes, then a metallic crack echoed from the lower level. Gut sinking, he looked over the edge and sure enough, he saw his beloved instrument shattered into too many pieces, irreparable.

Tears edged their way into his eyes. He turned with a glower, about to give the Joxter a piece of his mind. Then he saw his eyes. Any bravado he felt in that moment simpered into nothing under the cold and furious gaze of the Joxter.

Snufkin yelped as his face was grabbed, Joxter's deadly claws poking painfully into his cheeks. "Never lie to me, Snufkin. Ever."

Snufkin was at a loss for words, so he nodded, willing to do anything to avert his eyes from that piercing stare, those loveless, slitted eyes.

"Good." Joxter stepped away and got ready for bed, Snufkin laying as close to the edge as possible. He shivered when Joxter got in the other side, offering no amiable "Good night" or any acknowledgment that Snufkin was there.

He couldn't stop his lip from trembling, the memory of his father's penetrating stare burned into the back of his eyes, the way his claws had been so close to cutting his face, the dread he felt when the Joxter glared at him, the agonising sound of his favourite thing shattering beyond repair; it all built up in a matter of minutes and completely spoiled the first day he spent with his father.

He sobbed, not only for his instrument, and not only for the Joxter's harshness, but for the fact that he had ruined what had otherwise been a very fun day. Why couldn't he have just gone to bed like he was told? Why did he have to disobey Joxter after he'd been so, well, "nice" was an okay way of putting it considering how suddenly and abruptly Snufkin entered the man's life.

Snufkin sobbed and hiccupped as quietly as he could, not wanting to aggravate Joxter even further. He could hear him shifting next to him. Snufkin said nothing and tried to be as silent as physically possible.

"Snufkin?" Joxter's tone was completely unreadable to him. Was he even more angry? Was he going to try and console him? Snufkin had no clue whatsoever.

"Y-yes." He squeaked.

"I'm not angry with you, just annoyed, so there's no reason for the waterworks, okay?" He said, seemingly attempting to sound amicable.

"Okay." Snufkin whispered.

"Good." Joxter yawned. Curling closer to his son. Snufkin felt his gut untighten a bit. Maybe this was his father's way of showing forgiveness. He turned and buried his face into his father's chest, trying to repeat the position from last night. It must've worked because Joxter tightened his hold on Snufkin, and before much longer the man was snoring, followed closely by his son, who was hopeful for the following day.