Don't hate me. I had just stumbled upon this fandom the other day, and with nothing else to do, I dove head first into researching it. I thought I could put my own spin on Snufkin's backstory. Hope yall enjoy!
The attack happened after dark, probably after midnight.
Joxter didn't really know, since he had woken up with a start after falling asleep around mid-afternoon by the sounds of a woman screaming bloody murder. His son was crying as he ran, trying to get away from the attackers. Joxter tried to get his little half-mumrik, half-mymble son to calm down, to keep quiet because his cries could alert their pursuers.
He honestly wasn't surprised by the fact that the humans were attacking. Humans, who looked on the Mumriks with suspicion, were always so fickle.
Fickle and violent.
Joxter crashed through the underbrush. He cradled his son closer, making quiet shushing noises as his illuminate blue eyes scanned the darkness.
He needed a place to hide. And now.
The humans were right behind him.
With a quick glance up at the trees, Joxter quickly placed his son's collar in his teeth and began to scale the nearest tree. He didn't stop until the many branches of thick leaves concealed him. Quickly, Joxter returned his son to be cradled in his arms, rocking him a bit to get him to calm him.
"Shhhhh." He whispered desperately. The humans were coming closer, their torches still burning despite the fact that the entire mumrik valley was in flames, their blades still sharp despite the many being cut down by them. Joxter's heart was pounding in his ears as his son finally calmed down to a quiet whimpering right as the humans stormed by. Fear was pounding through him, something that he had never truly felt before, as they shouted in an absolutely blood-thirsty way. Joxter's first thought was that he needed tog et his son back to his mother, but Mymble was in the next valley over.
And to get there, he would need to cross several human villages.
Something he was not prepared to do with his very young son.
Joxter's mind was torn. There was also Moomin Valley, which wasn't that far from here, but there were still humans that stood between him and safety. His stomach sank as he clutched his son closer to his chest. There were still some stragglers below but the majority of the group that had attacked the village was mostly gone.
Even still, Joxter didn't move a single muscle.
"What are we to do, little one?" Joxter asked quietly to his dozing son. There had to be something that he could do, something that he could do to get his son somewhere safe.
It was as though someone had hit him over the head with a stick. He remembered that he left a crate by the river, hidden in the brushes that was big enough for his son and sturdy enough that it wouldn't sink. The river would take his son straight to Moomin Valley.
And take him straight to safety and away from him. Subconsciously, Joxter tightened his hold on his son a little bit. Tears prickled his eyes as he realized that if he did this, then there was a possibility that he wouldn't see his son for a long time.
But if he didn't, then they would both be taken by the humans and Joxter had to refrain himself from thinking about what they would do to them if they were caught.
"When you were born, I didn't know if I was going to be a good dad." His whispered. Something told him that this would be the last opportunity he would have to tell his son this story. A story he wanted to tell him when he was older and would remember it for the rest of his life. "People always say I'm a lay about, lazy, good for nothing. They were probably right."
He paused for a moment to slide down the tree carefully so as not to disturb his son's slumber. As he ran towards the river, he continued his story.
"I was terrified. But the minute you were laid in my arms, my whole world became you. I knew that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm."
A few humans must've heard him running or heard his whispered telling, because almost two minutes after he had started running, the shouting behind him started up again. Joxter put everything he had into his running, but continued his story anyway.
"I loved you the minute I knew you were on your way. I love your sisters and brothers all the same, but you stick out the most. You're the most creative, most independent, most mischievous. Most like me."
He did a leap over a boulder. The humans were coming closer, Joxter could smell the fire from the torches.
He was almost to the river.
"THERE IT IS!"
Crap! Just a little further!
One final burst, one final crash through the underbrush before he got to the river. Joxter didn't hesitate for a single moment to run towards where he kept the crate. He had almost forgotten that this was where he kept his son's birthday present.
A green, triangular hat that was similar to his own and a little harmonica.
Well, at least he'll have something to remember me by. Even if he won't remember me at all. Joxter thought with a bit of hysteria. He shrugged of his forest green overcoat with one hand and placed it in the bottom of the crate. Something soft for him to lay on.
The humans were right behind him. He could see their individual torches glowing in the night.
His son didn't even stir as Joxter set him in the crate. Tears were coming out of his dark blue eyes as he took him in one last time, committing him to memory. Joxter placed a kiss on top of the child's head before he shoved the crate off. It caught the stream's current easily enough and floated off towards Moomin Valley with Joxter's prayers following it.
The crate had disappeared a moment later, but by that time, the humans had caught up to him and were grabbing at him. He fought, obviously, but they overwhelmed him.
Several punches later, Joxter found him thrown into a caged wagon.
As the humans congratulated themselves, Joxter's eyes never left the river that took his son to safety but also away from him.
The wagon started to move, and even when the river had disappeared from sight, Joxter refused to move his eyes.
He swore to himself that he would find his son.
He would find Snufkin if it was the last thing he did.