Free Moominland Midwinter by Tove Jansson

confectioner.
    For once all the guests swarmed out in the snow and arranged an enormous snowball fight. The jam was nearly finished, and it had given them all much strength.
    The Hemulen sat on the wood-shed roof, blowing his horn with Salome the happy Creep at his side. He played 'The King's Hemulens' and crowned this favourite piece of his with a special flourish. Then he turned to Moomintroll and said: 'You'll have to promise not to be angry with me, but I've made up my mind to go to the Lonely Mountains, come what may. I'll be back again next winter and teach you to ski, instead.'
    'But I told you...' Moomintroll began anxiously.
    'I know, I know,' the Hemulen interrupted. 'You were quite right, too. But after this blizzard the hills must be splendid. And just think how much fresher the air must be there!'
    Moomintroll looked at Too-ticky,
    She nodded. It meant: 'Let him go. The thing's settled now and everything is for the best.'
    Moomintroll went in and opened the shutters of the porcelain stove. First he softly called to his ancestor, a low signal, somewhat like: Tee-yooo, tee-yooo. The ancestor didn't reply.

    'I've neglected him,' Moomintroll thought. 'But things that happen now really are more interesting than those that happened a thousand years ago.'
    He lifted out the big jar of strawberry jam. Then he took a piece of charcoal and wrote on the paper lid: 'To my old friend, the Hemulen.'
    *
    That evening Sorry-oo had to struggle for a whole hour in the snow until he finally reached his wailing pit. Each time he had sat there with his longing, the wailing-pit had grown slightly larger, but now it was set deep in a snowdrift.
    The Lonely Mountains were wholly snow-clad now and shone before him in splendid whiteness. The night

    was moonless, but the stars were twinkling unusually bright. From far away came the rumbling of an avalanche. Sorry-oo sat down to wait for the wolves.
    Tonight he had to wait long.
    He imagined them running over snowy fields, grey and big and strong - and then they would suddenly stop when they heard his calling howl from the edge of the wood.
    Perhaps they'd think: 'Listen, there's a pal. A cousin we could have for a companion...'
    This thought made Sorry-oo feel excited, and his imagination carried him further. He embroidered his daydream while he waited. He let the whole pack appear over the nearest hill. They came running towards him... They wagged their tails... Then Sorry-oo remembered that genuine wolves never wag their tails.
    But that was no matter. They came running, they knew him from before... They had already decided to take him along with them...
    Now Sorry-oo was quite overwhelmed with his vivid daydream. He turned his muzzle to the stars and gave a howl.
    And the wolves answered him.
    They were so near that Sorry-oo felt frightened. He tried clumsily to burrow down in the snow. Eyes were lighting up all around him.
    The wolves were silent again. They had formed a ring around him, and it was slowly closing in.
    Sorry-oo wagged his tail and whined, but nobody answered him. He took off his woollen cap and threw it in the air to show that he would like to play. That he was quite harmless.

    But the wolves didn't even look at the cap. And suddenly Sorry-oo knew that he had made a mistake. They weren't his brethren at all, and one couldn't have any fun with them.
    One could only be eaten up, and possibly have the time to regret that one had behaved like an ass. He stopped his tail that was still wagging from pure habit, and thought: What a pity. I could have slept all these nights instead of sitting here and longing myself silly...'
    The wolves were coming nearer.
    At that very moment a clear bugle call resounded through the wood. It was a blaring brass blast that shook lots of snow from the trees and made the yellow eyes blink. Within a second the danger was past and Sorry-oo was alone again beside his woollen cap. On his large snow-shoes the Hemulen came shuffling up the