When Snufkin finally woke, everything was murky. He wasn't sure if he was dreaming it. Bits and pieces came through- drinking something hot, laying on something soft, familiar voices talking to him, sounding he was underwater. Warm hands on his face. Something cold on his forehead. Man, he ached. And he was so tired.

Waking up properly was different- like being pulled out of water. He was drenched with cold sweat, weak, shaking- but awake. It took a moment to remember where he was- no, he recognised the room and the voice he could hear rather than remembering how he got there.

The talking stopped for a moment.

"Snufkin?"

It was soft, kind. Worried.

Moominmama.

"Wherrre?" Snufkin managed, but it came out hoarse and rough and he ended up coughing until tears came to his eyes.

"Hello, Snufkin, sweetie," Moominmama whispered, placing a paw on his cheek. "Welcome back. You gave us all quite a scare."

Snufkin tried to sit up but his head felt very heavy. The room was spinning a little. He could just about focus on Moominmama's face.

"Hey now- easy, darling," Mama pushed him gently back onto the pillows. "How are you feeling? Would you like some tea?"

"Mmm," Snufkin said, hoping this would be enough to clarify agreement. His voice was too weak to conjure a coherent word. (His brain was too scrambled to, as well.)

Moominmama produced a mug of steaming herbal tea from somewhere (as she magically did) and gently lifted Snufkin up. He flushed a little at his weakness, but that was the least of his worries. His hands were trapped under the heavy covers of the bed and he thought, as he took a sip of the tea- good as always- that they would probably shake too much for him to hold the mug anyway. So he tried not to be embarrassed by Mama having to told the cup for him. He trusted her.

"That's right, how does your throat feel?" Mama asked gently.

Snufkin cleared his throat and tested his voice.

"B-better, thank you, Mama." It was still weak and quiet, but it was definitely there, and it was definitely his.

"Good." Mama smiled at him. "I think I'd better go and tell Moomin you're awake. He's been worried sick."

"H-how long h-have I b-been..." Snufkin trailed off. Mama backtracked when she saw the look of panic and guilt on his face.

"Oh, don't worry dear, it's alright. It's been... about a week. But don't worry about upsetting Moomin, we're just glad you're back."

She smiled again as she saw him relax.

"Okay, I'll just go and get him," she said.

Snufkin nodded slowly- well really, it was more of a slight jerk to the head; Snufkin's head was swimming too much for him to actually nod.

He tried to stay awake while Moominmama was out of the room, but the bed was so comfortable and warm and the tea had calmed the pain in his throat enough to make sleep ridiculously inviting. His eyelids, leaden, heavy with sleep and itching with drowsiness, slid shut once more, but even though he drifted off instantaneously, he was only asleep for about five or six seconds before Moomintroll came clattering into the room.

"Snufkin!"

Snufkin jerked awake and stared around, his breathing shallow, shaking all over.

"You're awake!"

He was carrying something- a mug- it went on the nightstand as the Moomintroll's paws felt Snufkin's face. "And your fever's gone down!"

"Moomin..." Snufkin sounded weak. Moomin gazed down at his flushed, damp face. The elation he had felt when Mama had told him Snufkin was awake tainted with the blind panic and dreadful worry he had felt- and while looking at Snufkin conscious definitely comforted him, Moomin couldn't help but notice how sick his friend still looked. His face was thin, his cheekbones and jaw jutted out. His cheeks were hollow and he was sallow skinned, flushed with fever but pale. His hair was long- much longer than Moomin had ever seen it, and tangled. There were dark circles around his eyes, which were devoid of their usual glitter, and seemed dull and tired in the dim light of the bedroom. He smelt of old sweat, sickness, and sleep, but not comfortable sleep. His lips were cracked, his mouth dry.

But still, to Moomin, he was beautiful.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

Snufkin swallowed and tried to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"Tired," he said, truthfully. "Sore."

"Here, drink this," Moomin said, reaching for the mug on the nightstand. "Mama just made a whole big pot of soup."

"Soup, yes." He wasn't hungry, just tired, but if he didn't then there would be more fussing. This time he did extract his paws from under the bed covers, and he was grateful that Moomin politely ignored how much they shook as he took the mug.

"Thank you." He took a sip, noticing Moomin watching him. Moomin looked tired too, his face strained with worry. Snufkin knew how hard it must have been for his friend while he was unconscious, and he couldn't help but feel bad. "How have you been?" He asked awkwardly, keeping the mug in front of his face, surveying Moomin over its brim.

Moomin looked taken aback.

"Fine," he said. "It wasn't easy, but we're just glad you're back... glad I found you."

Snufkin nodded. He was glad, too.