Moomin's foot pleaded with him to stop running, sending pain shooting from his sole up his leg until his run morphed into an awkward limp. He had begun grunting with each step, spending more energy now in lowering his injured foot to the ground than he did raising it for the next step. MoominPapa had run much further ahead of the young troll by now. Moomin didn't mind. If his father could get there faster, then he should. The sooner they could rally a group to travel into the mountains the better.
...Snufkin...
Moomin's mind trailed to the broken, beaten body of his friend. The mumrik had looked so weak and sickly. Anger raged through Moomin's veins at the memory of Snufkin being held in the arms of the creature that took him. A Shadow Parent he'd learned it was called. What a terrifying monster.
Snufkin had looked so scared...
"Ouch!" Moomin cried out rather loudly. MoominPapa stopped and ran back to fetch his son, seeing that the cry was the result of Moomin stepping on a stone with his nearly unbandaged foot.
"That will need to be redressed. Sit down, Moomin. I'll do it now."
"No, Papa! I can do it myself! Hurry and get the others!" Moomin raised his arm as if you shoo his father away. Papa saw the desperation in the boy's eyes, and reluctantly, he nodded, turned, and raced further into the valley.
Now Moomin stood alone, accompanied by no one and nothing except his thoughts and the sounds of nature that seemed to care very little of the tragedies happening in its space. Strangely, or perhaps it wasn't so strange, Moomin was furious about this.
The wind shouldn't sound so cheerful while Snufkin was in misery. The river shouldn't sound so vibrantly present when Snufkin was missing. The snow... shouldn't have begun to fall in a deafening, silent cacophony. But the world didn't care what it should or shouldn't do in Moomin's eyes. And so it continued on its course.
And so did Moomin.
Ignoring the pain in his foot, and not stopping to fix his bandages. Why should he relieve his pain when Snufkin couldn't? It wasn't fair.
Moomin's vision blurred, and his nails dug into his palms. He was angry.
So angry.
No one had the right to cause this much torment to the people he loved. But they were. And Moomin couldn't do anything except limp down the path that led into the valley. There wasn't anything else he could do.
Not a thing.
He wanted to scream out in rage. To beat his fists into the solid, frozen ground beneath him. To feel the blood in his own knuckles splatter against the rocks and dirt. What a terrible thing to want, is it not?
To desire pain. However, it wasn't so much the pain that Moomin craved. No, he craved something much deeper. Deeper than pain could accomplish, and deeper still than Moomin could understand.
He just wanted Snufkin to be safe. At home. Warm and healthy, healing and in Moomin's-... arms.
He wanted to hold the mumrik and keep him safe and sound. He wanted to keep Snufkin warm and healthy.
...
But he couldn't.
And that was far more painful than the wound that was leaking blood onto the soil and frost with each step Moomin took.
By the time Moomin made it into the valley, the townspeople had been gathered around and were listening to MoominPapa speak. Moomin could feel the ice and fire that ran through each person's blood as his father spoke. "Snufkin has been taken by a monster! An evil, vicious creature that kidnaps children in the night!"
Gasps of shock and disapproval rang out through the crowd. Moomin spotted his friends standing, huddled together towards the back of the gathering. This time, he didn't approach them.
"Shadow Parents is what they are called! They live in the mountains of our neighboring town!" Papa raised his fist into the air. Snowflakes fell against his fur as if trying to calm him. It didn't work. "But these monsters are much too powerful to be taken head on alone!"
Some people began to murmur, having a guess as to where this was going. The snow freckled the ground and quickly melted when it touched the warmed soil under the townspeople's circle.
"Snufkin is a dear friend to us all! And we need everyone we can get in order to save him!" Papa's fist fell to his side, and the other pointed out among the people. "We need an army to defeat these beasts and save our friend!"
A couple of certain cheers floated in the wind from the audience. It wasn't enough. Moomin felt his face contort into a scowl. More people should be volunteering. Snufkin had helped everyone in this town at some point or another. Now he needs their help and they're not willing to give it?!
"We must band together and rescue Snufkin! Who is with me?!" Papa shouted, eyes scanning the crowd. Very few people shouted back with gusto, and even fewer raised their hands quietly and unsurely.
"That's it?!" Moomin cried from behind them all. Everyone turned around. Moomin hadn't meant to speak aloud, but it was too late to back down now. "After everything, Snufkin's done for you?! All of you?!" Moomin pointed to a small family, "When your roof caved in last winter as the snow melted, Snufkin helped you repair it in the spring!" A look of shame washed over the family's faces. Good!
"And you!" A round, shabbily clad hemulen jumped as Moomin's gaze directed to him. "When your farm shriveled up and died in the summer, Snufkin found seeds and replanted all of your crops because you were too upset to do it yourself!" Balling his fists, Moomin lowered his arm and stared at the collective group as a whole. "He's helped all of you!"
His eyes stung, threatening warm droplets in contrast to the snowflakes that fell onto his face. "He needs us all!"
No one spoke. No one moved.
The snow kept falling.
A tear ran down Moomin's cheek.
Slowly, the townspeople began to chant. "For Snufkin."
"For Snufkin. For Snufkin...! For Snufkin! FOR SNUFKIN! FOR SNUFKIN!"
Moomin wiped his face, tears blending with melted snow. Yes! They had their army! They were going to save Snufkin! He was going to be back in MoominValley, safe and sound. At home! Exactly where he should be.
Moomin joined in the chant, eyes dancing with motivation as he relocated his friends in the back of the crowd. They were also chanting. Turning to Papa, the group awaited instruction.
MoominPapa hesitated, entranced by his son's anger. He understood. But this was so unlike the little troll. He was proud, but... he felt a flame of worry ignite in his stomach. Something was going to go wrong. He could feel it. But there was no time to concern himself with superstition. His attention drew back from his son and returned to their army.
...
The snow quietly blanketed the valley, muffling the sounds of nature and hiding the figures that lurked in the forest...
It was dark. Really dark. And cold. Snufkin felt himself shivering.
He froze.
Something rattled above his head. It was cold. He could feel his warm breath chapping his lips, fighting against the frigid air around him. Snufkin wanted to cover his mouth, hoping to shield it from the painful chill of the darkness.
He couldn't move his arms. Instead, something tugged back at him, rattling in response and breaking the silence once more. The rattle echoed through the blackness. Snufkin recognized the noise to be the sound of metal clanging against itself.
Chains.
His arms were chained above his head. This wasn't good.
Snufkin arched his back, dragging his feet closer to his torso. He felt his legs stop forcefully after a little length.
Rattle...
More chains. His legs were chained too. Where was he? It was too dark for him to see. Something soft... He was laying on something soft. A bed perhaps?
He moved his hands, panicking at how little he could feel in his fingertips. They were too cold. He couldn't identify what he was touching, but he could definitely feel something hard above him. It had to be a bed frame. His fingers traced the chains around his wrist until he felt them loop around what might have been a set of metal bars.
Yes. A bed frame. An old, metal one with bars. It was too cold, though. As though it were made of ice itself. But Snufkin wasn't sure even ice could be this cold. He noticed he had started shivering again.
A gentle breeze drifted over Snufkin body. Too cold. It was much too cold. And too dark. Why couldn't he see? He blinked hard, then tilted his head to one side. He wasn't blindfolded. It was simply dark as pitch.
Or maybe he had been blinded. He really hoped that wasn't the case. Oh, it was so cold.
Drip...
Drip...
Something started leaking. Or perhaps it had always been leaking and Snufkin just hadn't noticed it before. He was certain he would have, though. He had always been very observant.
Drip...
Drip...
No... It wasn't there before. And it was getting closer. Snufkin felt a tightness encase his chest. He was scared. He was helpless. His entire body disobeyed him, be it because the cold had damaged his nerves or because of whatever injuries he had sustained. He couldn't feel the pain, however. He supposed the coldness had numbed it.
Drip...
Drip...
Snufkin held his breath. Something was getting closer. It was too cold and too dark for him to react. All he could do was lay, helpless, freezing, chained, and silent against a mattress that he wasn't even sure was soft anymore. Maybe it just felt that way because he was so cold and he couldn't feel properly anymore.
Maybe he was dead and the sound that kept getting closer was the grim reaper, here to take him into the next world. It felt far too cold to be anything else.
Snufkin had been so wrapped up in his mind, which he was deeming delirious now- as no one in their right mind loses attention to any approaching danger - that he only just now noticed that the dripping had stopped.
Something warm was placed on Snufkin's chest, causing his body to feel as though it had collapsed under it. His ribs had given way, falling into his organs and crushing his lungs.
He couldn't breathe.
A light appeared above him. Had it been there before? He thought that maybe it had been and he was just too cold to see it when he awoke. No... No, the cold shouldn't have affected his sight.
But maybe it did. There was a man leaning over him. Yellow eyes. Wait... Yellow holes where his eyes should be. It was looking at him anyway. Snufkin's mouth moved, trying desperately to suck in oxygen. He had forgotten he couldn't breathe. It didn't matter though. He didn't have any lungs to breathe with.
He looked down, shocked to see his chest still intact. Nothing had collapsed. He took a huge breath of air, relieved that he could use his lungs again. Instead of a bloody, collapsed mess, the man's hand rested on Snufkin's chest.
Wasn't it dark just a moment ago? Oh. He was holding a lantern. He must have lit it. Snufkin hadn't heard a match ignite, nor could he hear the flickering of the flame within the glass dome. It must be too cold.
And even though it was so cold and so dark- no, it was bright- Snufkin could still feel the pinch in his chest as something burrowed its way under his skin and into his muscle.
Ow. That hurts. Stop it! He cried out. He couldn't hear himself cry though. He hadn't said anything.
What was he trying to say? He couldn't remember. It must be too cold.
It must be too cold.
It was far too cold...
So cold...
Weeks must have passed. Maybe even months. That's what it felt like. Snufkin opened his eyes again, for what seemed like the hundredth time. He kept falling asleep. Somehow he had managed to sleep in the cold. But now he couldn't feel anything at all. It didn't surprise him, then, that he had been able to sleep. It wasn't cold anymore. At least, no one told him if it was.
Snufkin pulled at the chains that held his wrists above his head. He would like to go now if that was possible. It wasn't. The chains were too strong, and he was too weak. And even if he could break them, the burnt man was sitting at his bedside.
He didn't jump this time. He expected it. The burnt man hadn't left him since he noticed the light in the cave. Yes, he was in the cave. He's realized that when he had woken up the fifth time. At least he thought it was the fifth time. It might have been the first time. Numbers weren't working right. Snufkin had blamed the cold in the beginning, but now it wasn't cold. Just nothing.
The burnt man leaned closer to Snufkin's face. Snufkin didn't flinch this time. This time? Had he before? He didn't know. The burnt man whispered something that Snufkin couldn't hear.
"How are you feeling, little one?"
Snufkin looked around. Where did that come from? Who said that?
"Don't be frightened. You're safe. Papa has you now."
Papa... Oh good. Papa was here.
...
Who was Papa?
...
A needle slid out from Snufkin's chest. It was attached to a hand. A long, sharp finger. That's what it was. Snufkin squirmed. It had been under his skin. How gross. Did he even wash his hands?
The burnt man pulled away, falling into the darkness. The light was gone. Had it ever been there?
Someone screamed. It sounded an awful lot like Snufkin. At least he thought it did. Snufkin closed his mouth. Oh, yes. It had been him.
"Please don't scream. You'll only hurt your throat again."
That must have been Papa. But Snufkin couldn't tell where Papa was. The only other person in the room, as far as he could see, was the burnt man. Was that Papa?
It was too dark for him to be sure. All he could see was the orange lantern hanging above him, held by the burnt man.
Snufkin felt better when he awoke this time. His confusion had lessened greatly and the feeling in his body had returned. When he opened his eyes once more, he could see the entire room. He was the only living being there.
The walls were lined with beds, similar to the one Snufkin was laying on. But on these beds, chained just as he was, were skeletons. Skeletons of various sizes and shapes. Blood speckled the entire room. Stains that suggested dragging, leaking, and coughing.
Snufkin swallowed hard. He certainly didn't want to become one of these skeletons. And so he tugged, hard, on the chains that kept him tightly bound. He wasn't sure how long he had been pulling at the metal, making no headway, when the burnt man clambered into the room.
His eyes fell onto the yellow eye sockets of the man as it shambled up to Snufkin's bedside. Snufkin could feel his heart threatening to pound out of his chest.
"Don't yank on your chains. Your wrists are already bleeding." The man's voice echoed through the cavern, causing Snufkin to begin shivering again. He was scared. But he wasn't going to let that on. If he was going to die, he could at least do it with dignity.
He opened his mouth to speak, finding his throat burned as though acid had been poured down it. But he spoke anyway, "What... do you... want... from... me?" Gravely. His voice was hoarse and rough.
"I want to keep you safe until your mother returns. She'll be very happy to see our new baby." The man responded cheerfully. It was sickening. "My... mother?" Snufkin clenched his fists, even though it did no good and just made his arms more tired. The pain had returned.
"Yes, your Mama, little one. Now be a good boy and keep quiet. Your voice sounds so horrendous right now, and your mother would be very upset if her new baby lost his voice before she could hear it." The man folded his arms, sternly commanding. He said this as though it were an obvious and reasonable request.
Snufkin felt his confusion returning, but not like how it did before. This confusion was laced with panic. Awareness. Fear. "What... are you... going to... do to... me?" He needed to know. Even if he couldn't defend himself from it... He needed to know how he was going to die.
The man, who Snufkin now realized was 'Papa', simply shook his head and left the room. Snufkin laid alone, surrounded by corpses.
He was going to become one. Of that, he was certain.
MoominMama and SnorkMaiden worked together, packing several backpacks and lunch boxes. Little My helped MoominPapa handed out pocket knives and hand-made spears. Sniff and Moomin took a head count.
Twenty-nine, Moomin thought confidently. Twenty-nine people in the town had risen to the occasion. They had volunteered, despite their earlier reluctance, to work as one unit. Together. All for the purpose of rescuing Snufkin.
Oh, Snufkin... We're coming to save you.
Sniff interrupted Moomins, thoughts, "Was it really a monster that took Snufkin, Moomin?" His voice trembled, but Moomin couldn't tell if it was only out of fear for himself- as he had volunteered to go as well- or if the fear was also for Snufkin's sake. He wanted to believe that Sniff was afraid for the mumrik. At least then Moomin would know that he wasn't the only one who was worried out of his mind.
"Yes. I saw it with my own eyes. It was a monster, Sniff. A monster took Snufkin." He hissed out, but it was sorrowful. Poor Snufkin. Moomin couldn't help but replay the look of fear that had tainted Snufkin's usually beautiful, clear and vibrant, peaceful face. The creature's own face had been reflected in the mumrik's eyes, which were glossed over with exhaustion and pain.
It made Moomin sick to think that this was all real. That each time he woke up, he wasn't back in his own bed with his best friend's tent parked outside by the bridge. It made him sick to think that it wasn't a dream, no matter how nightmarish, that bruises and stitches wound around the vagabond's body.
"Moomin!"
Moomin opened his eyes and looked to the source of his name. Sniff was staring at him in confusion, "Are you going to be okay?" Sniff's voice was quiet and unusually soft like he knew that his question wasn't going to be received well. But he had to ask anyway.
Moomin sighed, shakily. "I'll be fine. It's Snufkin I'm worried about." Sniff nodded, holding his hands behind his back. "...I think he'll be okay. If that helps any...?" Again, Sniff's voice was unusually soft. But Moomin could read his intentions loudly. Sniff was his adopted brother after all.
Moomin nodded and offered his brother a smile. "It does. Thank you, Sniff." There was a silence between them that was welcomed. There wasn't many of those shared with the brothers. But this was needed. And so it was accepted. Neither spoke, and neither felt the need to.
They were going to save Snufkin. They were going to bring him back and regain their lost family member.
Sniff eyed Moomin inquisitively. He wasn't sure he'd ever been so afraid before, but he had to put it aside. Not that he could keep himself from voicing his fear. No, that'd never happen. Sniff just wasn't brave enough to do that, but his family loved him anyway. Including Snufkin.
Snufkin and Sniff were a lot closer than people often thought. Snufkin had even told Sniff he was very fond of him, in several instances. It was something Sniff was very proud of. But Snufkin and he shared a silent bond more than anything. And while Sniff was boastful, he respected his friendship with the mumrik. They didn't talk about it much. There wasn't much to talk about. Just a calm, and sometimes chaotic, polar-opposite bond.
So Sniff would have to be out of his mind to let someone take his friend. He wasn't strong, and he wasn't brave. But he was still an extra set of hands. If he could help somehow, he would do his best. Paralyzing fear or not.
But seeing Moomin become so commanding and vengeful... was frightening. Sniff wasn't sure what scared him more. The monsters, or the anger that emitted from his usually happy, and cheerful friend. Granted, this kind of circumstance was one that had never presented itself before. Not here in MoominValley, and not to Moomin. To Snufkin of all people. Sniff shuddered, deciding that Snufkin was the last person these 'Shadow Parents' should have hurt and taken. He was certain that Moomin would be a force to be reckoned with. All in the name of the vagabond mumrik that always made Moomin so happy.
Everything will be better when Snufkin is back, Sniff thought. And just like every time before, he knew he would be right about that.
The dim light of the room was starting to corrupt his sight. He kept seeing things move. His heartbeat never slowed, and he was sure that didn't help. He had continued to tug at his chains, despite 'Papa's' warning. Nothing helped. He was completely bound to the little twin-sized bed.
Snufkin could feel his body beginning to tire once more. It ached unpleasantly, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to rest. But the fear that trickled through his body kept him from shutting his eyes for very long. They soon reopened each time he tried to settle down.
Eventually, he had given up and taken to staring off into the distance. There was a skeleton of -he could only assume- to be a small child straight across the room from him. It was old, maybe even ancient. Stained with dust and riddled with cracks. It was dressed in a little ruffled nightgown.
Snufkin huffed, regretting it immediately. His throat burned, and he coughed. His cough was so loud and so harsh that he didn't hear the door open. He didn't realize that 'Papa' had entered the room until his coughing had ceased.
Snufkin's eyes widened as he noticed the man standing in the center of the room. But he wasn't alone. Another figure approached. It was more mangled and distorted than the man.
This must be 'Mama'...
Long, spindly legs protruded from the torso which twisted completely around. She crawled toward Snufkin on one leg, the other dangling limply behind her, dragging on the floor. She used her arms as hooks, pulling herself through the rocky soil of the room.
Unlike the man, she wasn't burnt. Instead, her body was covered in a milky flesh, but it was blanketed in various parts with brown and red, gaps and holes covered her. It was truly nightmarish.
Her head hung, her neck seemed to be completely shattered and gave no support to the weight of her cranium. She lacked a bottom jaw, which allowed for her tongue to hang loosely from her head.
She had the eyes of dead fish, Snufkin thought. Cloudly and grey.
If the mumrik hadn't been afraid before- which he was- he would be terrified now- again, he was. This was too much. His heart pounded faster than it ever pounded before. He felt like he was going to pass out.
The creature hooked her hands into the ground before a skeleton, pulling herself toward it, her working leg found its way underneath her and she pulled herself up.
"Hello, my dear. Mama is here now. No need to cry." She made her way through the room, greeting each skeleton as though it were her child and it missed her dearly. This was very wrong. Snufkin felt bile rise in the back of his throat, making it sting even more.
When she reached Snufkin, he could smell her. She stunk like rotten flesh and fresh blood. She could speak, though he wasn't sure how given her lack of face. "My dear, you look so scared. There is no need. Mama and Papa will take care of you."
She raised a crippled, twisted hand onto the bed, and reached for Snufkin's face. Snufkin couldn't help it. He screamed in terror and yanked his body as far away as he could, tightly shutting his eyes and breathing so rapidly he felt the room spin.
There was a silence that befell the cave, save for the mumrik's breath. It held for several moments. It was unsettling. Snufkin slowly opened his eyes, peering over his shoulder.
She wasn't there.
But he could feel her breathing on his cheek.
His eyes slowly wandered upwards. There she was. Head dangling directly above his head, dead-fish eyes scanning his own brown, very-much-alive eyes. Snufkin stopped breathing as if holding his breath would make her go away.
"You will feel better soon, my little one." Her tongue swayed with the words. He still wasn't sure how she spoke with such a mangled mouth. He couldn't focus on that though, because the next thing she said made him panic even more.
"You're not appropriately dressed." Snufkin took a moment to glanced down at himself, really taking in his body for the first time since he'd run to MoominValley. He exhaled sharply, realizing he was naked, decent only due to bandages covering the majority of the length of his body.
"My dear love," her head, despite the lack of support, twisted to face the burnt man. "Fetch our little boy a nightgown. He must be cold." The man turned, without a word, and left the room.
Snufkin only began to breathe again when the twisted lady crawled off the bed he lay on and backed away. She didn't go far. But he could, once again, see her entire mangled body. He wished he couldn't.
"Whilst your father is getting your nightwear, you should meet your brothers and sisters, my little one." She grinned. It was a disgusting, slurping grin that could only be heard and not seen, as she had no bottom jaw. Snufkin gulped.
"This is Abraham. He is your oldest brother." She beckoned to the skeletons, saying their names. Snufkin began to wonder if that was truly their name or if these creatures had killed the children and named them later.
"Agnes and Helga."
They were very old names for such young looking skeletons.
"Joakim, Trygve."
Snufkin looked at Trygve. That name was ancient... But there was still flesh on the skeleton.
"And you shall be Elias." Her eyes locked with Snufkin's. He huffed, trying to voice a 'no'. But all that came out were a series of coughs.
"You're so handsome, Elias. You will make a fine addition to our family."
No! He wasn't a part of this 'family', and he didn't want to be! Snufkin began to squirm. His vision swam. This was all more than he could handle. He hadn't even realized that 'Papa' had reentered the room until they were removing his chains.
This was his chance! He kicked and flailed just as he had done before in the woods. He would knock them down and get out of here! But... nothing happened. His body just wasn't listening. He couldn't raise his feet and arms high enough to hit either of them. He was just too weak.
Within minutes, the chains were wrapped around him once more. But now he was dressed, and while he wasn't happy about this whole situation, he did have to admit he was far more comfortable. And much warmer. And exhausted... And so tired...
No one could blame him for falling asleep, even with the two horrifying creatures staring down at him. He was just so tired.
"Be a good boy now, Elias."
...
They had already been walking for what seemed like forever. It really was taking so much longer than Moomin was content with. He wanted to run through the valley, through the mountain, through the next town, into their mountain, and to Snufkin's side. But as much as he wished he could simply run for miles upon miles, he was as aware as everyone else that he couldn't and neither could the others.
And so they all marched together, to the outskirts of the valley. Packs slung over their shoulders and grim looks on their faces.
Moomin was surprised, though he wasn't sure why to see Stinky sitting in a tree at the very edge of the town. "Stinky! What are you doing up there? Aren't you going to help us?" They were friends after all. I mean... They weren't best friends or even good friends. But Moomin did still consider himself and Stinky to be at least halfway decent in the realm of friendship.
Stinky looked down, spitting out the stalk of grass he had been chewing on. "Oh, Moomin!" He practically rolled down the tree and landed in front of Moomin. "Not that I'm saying yes or no, but what are you all even doing?"
Moomin felt his shoulders arch as if he were offended. He was offended, though. "We're all going into the mountains to save Snufkin from the Shadow Parents! Weren't you listening to us when we were getting everyone together?"
Stinky stood up and shrugged, "Not really. Snufkin's never been very nice to me, so why should I be nice to him?" Moomin's eyes widened, "Nice? Oh, but Stinky! This isn't anything to do with being nice! Snufkin is in trouble! He needs us all to help!"
Stinky was clearly not swayed, "Looks like you've got all these people helping you out. I don't see why you'd need me." Moomin opened his mouth to reply, but Stinky continued, "Besides. If the Shadow Parents took Snufkin, he's probably dead."
Moomin shut his mouth. His eyes furrowed into a glare and his fingers dug into the straps of his backpack. Stinky's eyes finally trailed back up to Moomins, and he jumped at the sight. "Whoa, whoa! Hang on!" Stinky was pretty good at reading people's emotions, and even though he wanted to be a master criminal, he had some very sympathetic tendencies. Especially for Moomin. Moomin had often thought this was because he was as close to a friend as Stinky had.
"I don't mean that to be rude, Moomin! But have you even heard about Shadow Parents before?" Stinky had his hands raised defensively in front of himself. Moomin shook his head but maintained his unhappy stare with the forest creature.
"They're ruthless, Moomin." He lowered his hands and softened his voice. "They're the ghosts of parents whose children were taken from them, either because they died or were kidnapped." Moomin's glare faded, but his fingers remained sunken into his pack straps.
"Why do you know about them, Stinky?" He tilted his head. Maybe Stinky would be even more useful than he thought he would be. "Well... They're criminals. When they were alive, they kidnapped kids to make up for the ones they lost." Stinky's face contorted into a sickened frown. If Stinky was disgusted by a crime, it had to be bad.
"My papa told me about them growing up. Shadow Parents are made when all of that happens when they're alive. But..." He trailed off, eyes falling to the ground. Moomin swore he could see a green hue fan over his friends face.
"But what, Stinky?" Sometimes he had to push the other to speak when he didn't want to. Now was one of those times. "But, they die because the townspeople torture them to death as punishment. And that's... how a Shadow Parent is made." Moomin watched Stinky's eyes as if they held an apology. "I'm not going with you, Moomin. But good luck finding Snufkin!"
Stinky leaped into the tree he had rolled down and bounded away into the forest and out of sight. Moomin slowly placed a hand over his throat. His memory flashed to the man that had kidnapped Snufkin. A burnt, melted man without eyes.
Moomin fell to his knees, gagging. How could anyone do that to someone's body? They weren't going to torture Snufkin to death, were they?!
Moomin jumped when he felt a hand on his back. He leaped to his feet and whirled around to find SnorkMaiden looking at him with concern. "Moomin? Are you going to be sick again?" Her voice was soft and comforting. He slowly shook his head, "N-no... I..."
SnorkMaiden waited for a moment for him to continue. When he didn't, she carefully took his hands and lead him back into the marching crowd. She held his hand as they began to scale the Lonely Mountains.
When night fell, the group of twenty-nine townspeople settled down. Their tents scattered the path of the mountainside. Moomin had wanted to travel further that night, but everyone was tired and exhausted. And yet again, someone had pointed out Moomin's injured foot.
Moomin didn't feel like this foot should be receiving so much attention. All of this worry should be for Snufkin's sake. Not his. He didn't deserve any of it. He couldn't even keep Snufkin from being kidnapped when he was finally safe in their house. This was all his fault.
He felt like curling up in a ball and crying until everyone was willing to move forward in the morning. He didn't even accept dinner when it was dealt out. SnorkMaiden had brought him a bowl of stew and hadn't left even when Moomin stated that he wasn't hungry.
Instead of leaving and giving the bowl to someone else, she sat down beside her boyfriend. Moomin loved her. He never had to ask her to be at his side. She just was, on her own accord and thought nothing of it and expected nothing in return except for Moomin's love.
She sat quietly next to him for a minute or two, placing her own bowl at her side, and Moomin's bowl between them. "You know, the mountains sure are pretty at night. You can really see the stars." SnorkMaiden had never been very good at being quiet. Moomin didn't often mind, and he usually enjoyed the conversation. It was typically a welcomed distraction.
Moomin huffed, "I guess so." He looked up to watch the stars. SnorkMaiden's eyes locked onto Moomin for a moment, before cautiously moving toward the sky again. "There are so many pretty constellations. I don't know them all, but I read a book once that mentioned several." She pointed up, "Look! It's the Little Dipper!"
Moomin squinted his eyes, trying to locate the constellation. He sighed and gave up after a few seconds. "I bet Snufkin knows all kinds of constellations." SnorkMaiden nodded, "I bet he does. Maybe when he get him back, we can all spend a night outside. Then we can ask him which constellations he knows."
Moomin thought that sounded like a wonderful idea. They could all sit under the starlight and gaze into its beauty. Moomin had been stargazing with Snufkin before. The mumrik's eyes were always so bright and reflective. Moomin loved to watch the stars in Snufkin's eyes when he wasn't looking. They were even more beautiful than the sky itself.
"-and I've seen so many different kinds of winter flowers as we've walked today." SnorkMaiden reached out and held Moomin's hand. He blinked, suddenly realizing she had been talking. He felt guilty for not listening to her. "I could make all kinds of lovely flower crowns and bracelets from them!"
Moomin stared at the girl sat beside him. She was stunning in the moonlight. He squeezed her hand. "I just wish Snufkin was here." He looked at the ground. He wasn't sure who he had said that to. SnorkMaiden, or himself.
SnorkMaiden's smile faded and she stared at her boyfriend. She wanted to cheer him up, even though she wasn't doing too well herself. Snufkin was Moomin's best friend, and she couldn't imagine how terrible he must have felt.
She knew that she would be devastated if this had all happened to Moomin, and it was she who was in Moomin's place. But even still, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy for Moomin's concern for Snufkin. She selfishly wondered if Moomin would react this way if she was the one who had been hurt and then kidnapped. SnorkMaiden released Moomins hand and stood up. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Moomin."
"Goodnight, SnorkMaiden." He sounded so disinterested. SnorkMaiden walked away, holding back tears. She felt horrible. Not just because Moomin acted as though she didn't exist. But because she felt jealous about it. She knew this wasn't a simple matter, and there was no way to expect him to give her affection and attention during this time. He was in his own head, worried sick over Snufkin.
She just wanted everyone to be safe. She wanted Moomin's love. She wanted Moomin to love her more than he loved anyone else. And she was fearful that it just wasn't the case. Oh, what an awful time to fear this. When there is so much more to worry about. She hoped Snufkin was okay.
Snufkin was alone. He usually liked being alone. But this was different, and this was unnatural. He felt like he was dying. He felt like he was already dead. He groaned quietly, coughing twice before falling silent.
He'd had a terrible nap. It was cold again. It felt like his life was being drained from his body. Maybe it was. Everything was foreign and terrifying in this place. For all he knew, a demon could come floating through the wall and he wouldn't question it.
This room was utterly horrible. It stunk like decay and dust, and the dim outlines of skeletons did not help Snufkin to feel any safer.
There was no doubt in Snufkin's mind that these were the skeletons of other children these creatures had kidnapped and killed. He didn't know how they had died, or for what purpose. Nothing made sense here. It was confu-...
...
Something moved.
Slowly... Snufkin turned his head, ignoring the pain he felt in his jaw and neck.
His eyes fell on a skeleton from across the room. He recognized it as the one 'Mama' had called Gunnel. Something over there had moved. Maybe a rat. Or a bug. Snufkin gulped quietly, hope filling his mind. Maybe it was a creature that could help him.
...
...
The skeleton turned its head and stared back at Snufkin.