The day was warm and lazy, the blue sky, untainted by clouds, hung like a heavy dome over the Moomin Valley. It was quiet in the forest clearing next to the river, only nature played its music: birds sang and the water murmured, the grass rustled and the wind whispered softly.

Snufkin was dozing in his tent, having decided to rest in the middle of the day. Next to him lay his hat, his harmonica and his fishing rod. He was almost completely asleep when he suddenly heard a noise outside.

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