The boy did not seem concerned with covering their tracks. He could only assume this was a good thing. They probably didn't have any pursuers.

His mind wanted him to know it might be a trick. They had been malicious, fanciful and quite fond of games. He had known only them for so long, he did not know what his worth to them was. How far they would go to ensure their possessions.

He had pulled on the collar, always. He had ripped it off until they found a metal one with sharp edges and even then he had tugged against it until his breathing was cut off and his lungs grew sore. They had laughed at his efforts.

When it came down to it, he would not let them collar him again.

Snufkin had never been as tired as he was now. It had been a few days, and while their progress during the day had become slightly more agreeable and Joxt seemed a bit more present, his nights were spent awake and restless. Sometimes he would stare at the inside of his tent and try to focus on the uneven breathing of Joxt curled up in the corner, but more often than not that would only make him more uncomfortable, and instead he would sit outside and look at the stars or count them. He had gotten to over a hundred once before he lost track of which ones he had already counted and which ones not, and he had to start over.

That first night he had unconsciously related the circumstances to the sleepovers he and Moomin shared, sometimes accompanied by their other friends, but now he wasn't so certain. While he was typically the last person to fall asleep on those and the first person up at the break of dawn, at least he had slept some. There was something different about this whole situation that bothered him, Snufkin just couldn't pinpoint what and there was little time to think it over thoroughly when the air was still too cold and the ground too hard with frost, winter now an inescapable threat.

How far south had they come, really?

Snufkin didn't have any maps. He found them to be unnecessary at best (and plain bothersome at worst) and often he just went where he wanted anyway and figured the rest out later, not even bothering learning the names of the places he visited, with the exception of one or two places he might think useful to find again later.

"It's too cold." He mumbled to himself and then because Joxt had looked at him he said louder. "It is unusually cold for this time of year actually. I wonder what the cause is."

Joxt looked up and pointed at the mass of clouds gathered above them, promising snow soon or at least a healthy amount of rain. He stopped and looked north, so Snufkin stopped too. The sky was dark and foreboding in that direction even more so.

"Yes, that's where the bad weather usually comes from. It's why we're traveling in the opposite direction."

Joxt shook his head and pointed again. Barely visible against the gray of the distance were the peaks of Lonely Mountain, capped with white and almost hazy in the midday gloom. Snufkin peered at them for a second. He was so very tired.

"You think it comes from the mountains?" He asked. Joxt nodded. "Well we are going in the opposite direction of them too so that should be fine."

They resumed walking slowly. Snufkin felt very much like his entire head was filled with cotton and it was hard to concentrate. Which was awfully ironic, since it meant it was him who was zoning out now. Joxt didn't seem to mind much though. He also looked exhausted, despite sleeping a lot. He kept fidgeting with his clothes, Snufkin could only assume he was still getting used to them. Often his hand would wander up to his throat and pick at the skin, where the mark was healing badly. It was angry and red and while there wasn't any more bleeding it was sure to leave a nasty scar.

Had he been that kind of person, Snufkin might have asked him about what happened. There certainly had to be a harrowing story that ended up with Joxt alone and injured in the middle of the wood. However, those questions were for curious people who cared to pry into other people's business, not Snufkin who found that if you wanted to avoid being asked difficult questions of your own it always served you well to hold your tongue.

"Stop picking at it," He said eventually, when it became too hard to ignore. "You're going to make it worse." Joxt raised an eyebrow at him. Snufkin scoffed. "Worse than it already is I mean. Here," He pulled on the man's sleeve and put down his bag. Joxt had not shunned away from his touch anymore since that first night and Snufkin saw it as a small victory at least.

They were running low on bandages now, since he had redressed the wounds on Joxt's arms and legs a few times over the course of the last days. But they were mostly healed now so he used what remained to cover up the wound left by the collar. It still filled Snufkin with irrational anger more than anything, something that he could hardly explain but was very similar to his brawl with the park keeper a few years back. When he was done it looked very much like Joxt was wearing a white scarf, the edge of the bandages resting just below his chin and ending above his collarbone. Snufkin never found out about the other wounds along Joxt's chest, but they apparently stopped bleeding too so that should be fine. The bruises were turning greenish-yellow with time and the willow bark had helped with the pain as well.

"We'll get new ones," He said, considering first that it might wait until spring but then on second thought being too aware of the reality that they might need them again soon. Joxt looked exactly like the kind of fellow that often got himself into trouble. Snufkin didn't have the best track record himself, when it came to that. "There should be villages near here."

The comment made Joxt stop, jaw set tight and muscles straining. Snufkin didn't know what to do so he didn't do anything. After a moment it passed and neither of them gave any indication it had happened or what it meant. He was about to start walking when Joxt grabbed the hem of his coat again, which had quickly become his go-to method of catching Snufkin's attention. He was bracing his free hand against his stomach.

At first Snufkin recalled his thought from a few minutes earlier and assumed it had something to do with those other injuries, but Joxt's hand was positioned too low for that. "Oh," He said. This wasn't the first time this happened in the course of their short acquaintance of course. "I'll wait here then."

He watched the other disappear between the trees with a yawn, before sitting down against a nearby tree to wait. Joxt had the tendency to take his time with anything he put his meager efforts into, which wasn't really much besides basic bodily functions and the occasional hunting, though that too was mostly to serve his hunger. At least they wouldn't have to worry about starving this winter.

And one winter it would be. Snufkin tipped his head back to watch the sky again, the bare branches a frame filled with dark clouds. He couldn't remember the last time this season had been so fierce and if he didn't know himself any better he might start to be envious of Moomin and his family, who slept so easily through the cold and snow. He had tried that, the first winter after meeting the troll. He hoped that the folk tales were true though and this would mean a more plentiful spring next year.

His eyes had closed automatically and really he didn't feel like opening them again. He doubted they could go as far south as the sandy places, but they might be able to outrun the worst of the hail. Maybe if it became warmer Joxt would go back to sleeping outside too and Snufkin could finally get some rest at night. He was so tired.

Moomin would be sleeping already, surely.

He isn't sure what woke him up. It wasn't a noise, something sudden and intrusive. It was slower, like the sun shining in your eyes and pulling you from sleep inch by inch. He scrunched up his nose and it smelt like fire. Snufkin forced his eyes open and sat up, the tree bark had dug into his back unpleasantly but aside from that he was pretty comfortable. Not cold either, he observed, because somebody had opened his bag and taken out his blanket, covering him with it. Joxt was roasting something over the firepit he had built. It was dark, but behind him Snufkin could make out the yellow shape of his tent, fully upright.

"Did you rummage through my stuff?" He asked, though he sounded more drowsy than actually affronted. Joxt stared at him blankly. He never answered questions that had too obvious an answer. Instead, he touched his fingers together and brought them to his mouth.

"Yes, I can see that," Snufkin responded. "Which is great, but still." He got up and folded the blanket. It was hard to judge how long he had been asleep but it was clearly night now which meant Joxt would want to sleep too. He considered the firepit and then the tent. "I was under the impression you didn't know how to do these things."

Joxt turned the meat around, making sure it cooked evenly on all sides. He always left it too raw for Snufkin's tastes, but was clearly trying to be considerate. He seemed to think over the remark for a moment, maybe he didn't want to answer truthfully, before pointing at his eyes and then at Snufkin.

"You watched me do it?" Snufkin confirmed and Joxt inclined his head. "That's clever."

They ate in silence, before Joxt retired to the tent to sleep. Snufkin stayed outside, not feeling like bothering with even attempting to sleep tonight. Fortunately, the nap actually helped and he didn't feel as tired as before. He watched the constellations instead, half-hidden behind clouds, and named them in his head. The north star was big and bright in the black mass and he didn't know if that was a good omen or a bad one.

They could hear the village before they could see it. It were the distant sounds of civilization that Snufkin had grown rather unfamiliar with. The valley was a peaceful place with houses spread far and few in between. Often your nearest neighbor would still be a short walk away, if not out of sight completely. It had been a long time since he last set foot in a place where people lived so close together.

But humans were rowdy, far more confident when living in close proximity to others of their kind, and far more sociable too than any other creatures. (and therefore a whole lot more sociable than mumriks, who by nature took to a more withdrawn lifestyle)

Joxt had noticed it too, and Snufkin sensed a sort of nervous tension from him that was more than he had felt from him at any other point. They went as far as the outreaches of the village, which luckily was smaller than Snufkin had predicted. Just a few dozen houses clustered together near the edge of the woods, with well-worn paths stretching into the meadows beyond, which meant there were probably more abodes still further on, or even proper farms.

Here Joxt stopped, regarding the houses with an even face, though everything about his stance betrayed his underlying mistrust. Snufkin couldn't exactly blame him. "You stay here," He remarked rather uselessly. "I won't be long." Joxt made a noise, something low in his throat that might have been a growl or maybe almost a whine. Snufkin patted his elbow. "Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'll be back before you know it."

He pulled his coat down first, tugging his hat over his ears. Small town folk usually posed less of a problem than humans from bigger places did, but he would rather avoid any needless small talk or over-eager pleasantries. He didn't waste any time in locating the shop he had hoped to find, a smaller building with a copper plaque that boasted of homebrewed ale and liquor and that had wooden boxes full of fresh vegetables outside. The shop keeper was kind enough, pointing him towards a modest shelf full of rudimentary medical supplies. Snufkin decided on more bandages as well as a salve that supposedly treated both burns and bruises, something he could probably easily make himself during summer, but would be harder to find ingredients for this time of year.

Keeping his head down, he waited in line while the few other people bartered for their goods. A mother with a crying infant stood behind him, rocking her inconsolable child on her arm, the little one's face red from screaming its poor lungs out. The noise was grating and when the mother caught his gaze she smiled apologetically, holding the child closer and humming a song to it Snufkin vaguely knew. It seemed to help some, as it blinked up at her with tear-filled eyes, forgetting what had upset it in favor of the soothing melody.

The shop keeper was a middle-aged woman with greying hair and eyes that wrinkled at the corners, like she was used to laughing a lot. She smiled at him when he finally made it to the counter. "Trade or gold?"

"Gold." Snufkin mumbled, digging into his pocket for the few coins he earned last spring when he helped plant seeds for a hemulen in the valley who was rather fond of collecting and crossbreeding flowers. He had done it happily of course, since he looked like he needed the help, and didn't expect any payment but the hemulen had refused to let him leave without a few coins for his troubles. Now he was quite thankful he hadn't tossed them into the nearest well, as was his custom.

"Not for you, I hope?" The lady inquired as she took his payment. Humans were always so curious.

"A friend." He answered.

She nodded thoughtfully, watching him through silver-rimmed glasses. "If you need any help with that we have a good healer here in town. I'm sure she'd be happy to-"

"No, thank you."

He left quickly, before she could give him any more unheeded advice.

Joxt wasn't waiting for him where he left him. Snufkin looked around nervously, hoping with all his heart that the man didn't go wandering alone and gotten himself in some kind of unpleasantness or worse, injured again, until he looked up and saw the source of his anxiety curled up on a tree branch, legs dangling on either side. He was watching Snufkin intently, and seemed either relieved or maybe amused at his panic. Perhaps both.

"You're being very helpful." Sometimes sarcasm came naturally to him. Joxt aimed an acorn at his head. Snufkin sidestepped it easily. They left quickly after that.

Snufkin tried sleeping in the tent again that night, only because the rain they had expected the day before finally decided to fall. He checked on his flowers first, shifting them between pages to make sure they would dry properly. Joxt lay on his side and blinked up at him. He made a simple gesture in front of his face that was hard to understand due to the angle, but after a moment it clicked into place.

"Yes, they're very pretty," Snufkin closed the book carefully. "Do you like flowers, Joxt?"

The man didn't answer but smiled. It reminded Snufkin of the woman in the shop, who grinned so widely it felt like she didn't care who saw her joy. And Joxt, who smiled thinly and modestly like he had forgotten how to. Or like he didn't want people to see.

He laid down, pulling the blanket up to his chin. Moomin smiled like that too, like the woman. It was curious, strangely warm and open but at the same time it made Snufkin kind of sad. He wondered what he himself smiled like, what impression he left on others.

Quite lost in the thought, he hadn't even noticed Joxt had already fallen asleep until what was probably hours later, when he began tossing and turning uneasily. It was completely similar to their first night together and Snufkin sat up quickly, hands balled into fists. He really didn't want a repeat of that incident, even if it had left them both unharmed (if slightly disturbed). He could probably crawl out unnoticed and wait for the nightmare to run its course, but that felt cruel.

The idea was quick and stupid and he wanted to push it away so badly, because if it didn't work he would look like an absolute fool. He hesitated, the blanket pooling around his waist and Joxt didn't make a sound this time but his nails were digging into his own palms, drawing blood. Snufkin didn't want to allow himself a second thought.

His breathing was uneven so the first few notes came out wrong. He had to take a moment to settle, and closed his eyes because that usually helped. Maybe if he pretended he was alone, playing for himself, it would be easier? The next few notes were better, though it was hard to control the volume. He didn't want to alert the entire forest to their presence, even if the downpour drowned out the music.

For the first minute or so nothing happened. Snufkin was about to give up, he knew that it was a long shot anyway, but then Joxt seemed to slow down, face creased and spine hunched and so very vulnerable. Snufkin hadn't realized which song he was playing, he hadn't paid attention really, but it was the tune the mother had hummed for her child at the store, he realized, slow and soothing and just a little melancholic.

Joxt had stopped tossing but his eyes were still closed, the pained expression etched into every feature. His tail twitched subconsciously; one arm curled around his chest. Snufkin kept playing, making up more of the song as he went along because he didn't know how it went. After a while he knew, even without looking, that Joxt had gone completely still again. He finished the song and opened his eyes.

Somewhere a bird call resounded among the trees, as if to mourn the loss of the music that had so briefly interspersed the dead of night. Joxt was awake and staring at him, his eyes were soft and red-rimmed and-

"Oh," Snufkin breathed automatically, unbidden.

Joxt's eyes were wet with unshed tears.

Snufkin didn't know why e did what he did next. Maybe it was because he had already done one stupid thing tonight. Maybe it was because he hadn't slept properly in three days and was clearly going out of his mind with fatigue. Maybe he could blame Moomin for rubbing off on him.

He laid down again and used one hand to reach out. Joxt wavered for a moment, body stiff and unmoving. Then, ever so tentatively, he crawled closer. Snufkin's hand brushed against Joxt's elbow. He rolled over onto his other side and then he felt Joxt curl up too, so they were facing away from each other.

It was a strange position. Snufkin felt acutely aware of the back now pressed against his own. Their feet needed some adjusting, and if he tipped his head back he could feel Joxt's long hair brush his forehead. He was conscious of the man's breathing, shallow and uneven from the nightmare still, but slowing down as if comforted by the physical contact.

And it was warm. Even with the blanket now abandoned somewhere around their middle, sideways so it covered them both, the heat of their bodies seeped into each other. Snufkin closed his eyes again. He would never be able to sleep like this, of course.

He curled his hand around his harmonica, which he had forgotten to put away, and traced the holes of the instrument idly, counting them. The song had felt familiar and he didn't know why. He just knew it made him feel heavy-hearted. Maybe he had heard it somewhere before and related it to a past memory, merely one he couldn't figure out now. Which probably meant it wasn't that important.

Before he got to a hundred this time, he had already fallen asleep.