Snufkin walked from out of the woods; harmonica in hand and his bag on his back as he walked out of the woods and onto the bridge at the end of the trail in Moominvalley. With a small thump, he set down the backpack he was hauling and climbed onto the railing of said bridge, sitting and listening to the babbling brooke beneath, and the sound of the wind through the grass and foliage. It was a peaceful sound, and the vagabond couldn't help but indulge.