(Author's note: I'm back! I know I'm slower at getting a sequel out than Pixar, but it is finally here. And I hope to make it a little different than the first in the way that the chapters will be shorter and updated more frequently. I wanted this chapter out on Valentine's Day, but unfortunately, I realized it had been several years since I had read "Love Makes You Crazy", and I did not want any inconsistencies between the two. However, I found many inconsistencies throughout "Love Makes You Crazy" and I am currently editing it. If you want to reread the first of the series, note that there are many mistakes that will be fixed. The first edited chapter of LMYC is up right now. Anyway, here is the first chapter. Enjoy)

My head is stuck in the clouds
She begs me to come down
Says "Boy quit foolin' around."

I told her "I love the view from up here
Warm sun and wind in my ear
We'll watch the world from above
As it turns to the rhythm of love"

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun you're mine, all mine
Play the music low and sway to the rhythm of love

My heart beats like a drum
A guitar string to the strum
A beautiful song to be sung
She's got blue eyes deep like the sea
That roll back when she's laughing at me
She rises up like the tide
The moment her lips meet mine

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun you're mine all mine
Play the music low and sway to the rhythm of love

When the moon is low
We can dance in slow motion
And all your tears will subside
All your tears will dry

And long after I've gone
You'll still be humming along
And I will keep you in my mind
The way you make love so fine

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun you're mine all mine
Play the music low and sway to the rhythm of love

Play the music low and sway to the rhythm of love
Yes sway to the rhythm of love

Love Can Kill You

Chapter 1: Love's Rhythm

By Emilou

The soft morning light fell upon his fur, waking him faster than the roar of trouble crashing through the jungle. The habit of being instantly alert kept him alive through his life, first as a pirate, then living in isolation in the dinosaur world. That same habit told his body to get up, to move. He had lived a dangerous life, and alertness meant life.

But something warm and soft eased the tenseness from the weasel's muscles. As he stirred and caused the hammock to rock, the body next to him shifted and made a soft moan as her sleep was disturbed.

Buck felt Tundra's paw grasp his fur, her nails gently scratching his skin in a way that sent warmth through his body. He dropped his head so that his cheek rested on her head. He breathed in her scent, a mixture of flowers and the musk. It calmed him, pushing away the madness that had seized his mind for so long, he had been complacent with it.

How had he not seen her love before? It had been almost five months since the mink had fallen through the ice sky and into his life. According to Tundra, she had been struggling with her feelings for him at least half that time. He could hear a triceratops from a mile away, feel through his feet the reverberations of a stampede, and by scent alone, could tell if Rudy was nearby, yet he had not noticed her adulation. In fact, it had been his obtuse lunacy that had nearly lost her to him forever.

That and the pirates.

Remembering Red Claw and his attempt at using Tundra to get to him, Buck felt his blood boil so much that a growl nearly steamed out of his throat. His eyes automatically went to the pierced ear of the mink. At night, she always took out the wooden earing he carved for her; it often would tangle with the hammock, especially if they moved around a lot. The hole in her ear stood out like a beacon; a mar on his perfect angel from her encounter with the dastardly pirate.

Buck had let Red Claw live for old time's sake, and because he didn't want Tundra's memory of him killing the rat, even though it wouldn't be the first mammal's life he had taken. He knew if he had slain Red Claw in front of Tundra, she would never look at him the same again.

Realizing he was focusing on the negative, he turned back to the one who broke him out of his own mental prison, saved him from isolation and loneliness, and loved him with an innocent passion that he didn't deserve. If she knew who he had been back with Red Claw and her, would her admiration and adoration of him remain?

"She's alive," Buck remembered Red Claw's words whispered in his ear. They buzzed around in his brain, haunting his ribs and guts like a vengeful ghost. He wasn't sure if this was possible or if Red Claw was just messing with his mind. After all, she couldn't have survived.

But stranger things had happened.

And if she were alive. . .

Again, Buck forced his mind back onto his new wife. They had been married for a little more than a week, still in the honeymoon phase. During that whole time, he had taken care of Tundra, seen to the injuries she received with her encounter with Red Claw, and doted on her every whim.

Even now, Buck concocted a plan to surprise Tundra with yet another act of service to spoil her. She deserved it.

So that the mink wouldn't wake up, Buck eased out of the hammock with deft stealth, leaving behind Tundra still sound asleep. Stroking her cheek one last time, Buck scurried off into the jungle.

Unlike her husband, Tundra woke up in stages, lounging in the glory of being lazy. She had always been a morning person, but healing from her many wounds kept her sluggish and groggy after a night's rest. Luckily, the mink and weasel had taken to staying in bed for most of their days. And their nights as well.

But today was different. She felt restless as she finally opened her eyes. She wanted to move around, to go back to her old routine of moving around the jungle and having adventures with Buck. Only this time it would be different. This time, she didn't have to hide a part of her heart from him. She was free.

Hopping out of the hammock, Tundra wasn't concerned that Buck was gone. As much of a morning person that she was, Buck was even more so. He would come back when he was ready. In the meantime, she began her morning preening ritual. First, she put the wooden earring back through the hole in her ear. Although the wound had healed, the flesh was still tender, so the earring's weight felt uncomfortable.

With the flower ornament in place, Tundra set about grooming her fur. Given she didn't spend half as much time as her mother required, but she still went through the ritual still the same. Even knowing that a day in the dinosaur world would make her a sweaty, stinky mess, she still liked to start the day at her best.

Using a bone comb that she carved herself, she went through her fur, taking out the loose hairs, the tangles and anything else that settled into her coat. She was careful of several sensitive areas where injuries remained, like her back where the wildcat Crowfoot had scratched her. As she was finishing her tail, her instincts went haywire as she sensed something watching her. Although being high in the trees was the safest place in the jungle, there were still dangerous things near the canopy: snakes, giant spiders, and some flying dinosaurs. Even here in the safety of her own home, Tundra had to be cautious.

Pretending not to notice, Tundra slowly reached for her knife. In a flash, she leaped into action. However, her blade was stopped by bone.

"Impressive, Angel-girl," Buck muttered with a crazed grin from his hiding place, his tooth knife the only thing keeping Tundra's weapon from slicing him.

"You sneaky little mammal. You were spying on me," Tundra growled in a sultry tone. She put more pressure against her knife, leaning her body against the weasel and pinning him against a branch.

Buck flicked his wrist, his deft move disarming the mink. Just as quickly, he spun her around so that she was the one pinned. "I couldn't help myself," his voice rumbled, his face close to hers. "You were so vulnerable, so enticing."

Before the weasel could kiss her, Tundra raised an eyebrow. "Vulnerable?" Using her tail, she tripped him up. Anticipating a countermove, she blocked his attempt at grabbing her wrist again, dodging out of his grasp. They grappled for a moment, although it was mostly Buck evading his wife's attacks, never on the offense.

Finally, Buck wrapped his arms around Tundra from behind, thinking he had gotten the best of her. He was wrong as Tundra flexibly reached behind her, grabbed his scruff and tossed him over her shoulder onto the floor of their home. Landing on his back, Buck groaned and coughed, trying to gain back the wind he lost.

Straddling the weasel, Tundra pressed her paws against his wrists. "How's that for vulnerable?" she asked, with a grin that made Buck's fur stand on end.

"Oh, my mistake," Buck apologized, not doing anything to get out of the position. He had no desire to. "Where did you learn to do that? I didn't teach you that move."

"I picked up a few things here and there," Tundra said, leaning down and giving him a kiss. As the kiss deepened, she let go of Buck's wrists so she could wrap her arms around him. She felt Buck do the same, although his grip was stronger, with more desire.

Tundra let out a laugh as Buck rolled, putting Tundra below him. His mouth moved to her neck, teasing her fur. When he moved to her ear, his teeth nibbling around her earring, she squealed and pushed him off.

"Hey, haven't you had enough?" she teased, touching his nose.

"Never," Buck growled, nuzzling into her neck again.

"Are you sure you don't want to go out today? Find a little more action than what we do in bed," Tundra inquired, biting her lip.

Buck inspected his wife with his single eye. "Are you sure you're up to it?" he asked. "How do you feel?"

Tundra smiled endearingly. It was true that she hadn't been in the greatest of health on their wedding day. She had been starved, exhausted and hurt all over, and it had been nice to be doted on and lay around for days. But she wanted to be out and about, ready to begin her new life as Mrs. Buck.

"I think I answered that already with how I kicked your butt," Tundra flirted, brushing her fluffy tail against Buck. "Come on. Let's go have an adventure. We can't stay in bed forever."

Buck wiped away an invisible tear. "I'm so proud of you," he cried falsely. "In that case, first you must eat. For you, m'lady." He bowed and pushed aside some leaves, revealing two eggs he had pillaged from an unattended nest.

Normally, Tundra would be salivating over the thought of eating eggs. But for the past week, Buck had indulged her in one of her favorite foods so much that they didn't seem appetizing. But she knew how much effort it went into finding the eggs and hauling them up the tree. For now, she would make Buck feel cherished, but she would tell him later that variety was also appreciated.

"Mmmmm," Tundra said after cracking the top of the egg off and taking her first bite. "If I eat like this every day, I'm going to get a big butt."

"Don't you worry. We'll work that new flab off. Although, I wouldn't mind if you added a few. More to love," Buck said, eyeing his wife's figure and feeling up the mentioned body part.

Tundra slapped his paw away with a grin. "Can't you leave me alone even for a meal?" she tried to act aghast, but couldn't as she was giggling.

The two continued to flirt as they ate their breakfast, sitting on the edge of the branch with their legs dangling in the air. Through the branches and the leaves, they could occasionally see dinosaurs moving below them. On this day, a family of smaller species of dinosaur scrambled and played round the trunk of the tree. This species of reptile walked on two feet and were of the omnivorous variety with a diet much like minks and weasels. They ate fruits and vegetables for the most part, but also scavenged for meat and eggs.

The family consisted of two adults and a dozen young hatchlings that peeped and squeaked as they jumped and played around their parents.

"Oh, how adorable," Tundra cooed, seeing the dinosaurs before Buck. "The babies are playing. Oh, look at those little claws. They can barely walk."

"By the looks of the little tikes, they can't be more than a few days old," Buck observed lightly. "They may be adorable up here, but in a few weeks, they'll chew your bloomin' arm off."

"They'll still be adorable," Tundra continued to gush. Conscientiously, her paw went to her abdomen, a soft smile on her face. "Oh, it's been so long since I've held babies. I used to babysit all the time. I loved it. I can't wai. . . I mean, maybe we can go visit my family soon. My cousins are always having babies."

Tundra waited for Buck to reply with abated breath. She was about to tell her husband how much she had always wanted to be a mother. In fact, she had been anticipating the moment she knew she was pregnant, harvesting the hope that it was already so. But she didn't want to bring it up. For one, when it happened, she wanted it to be a surprise. For another, she wasn't sure how Buck would react.

What little Buck spoke about his life, he didn't exactly grow up with parental role-models. Between growing up a pirate and living in isolation, the weasel already had a few wires crossed. Would he be a good father? Did he even want to be a father? They had never discussed it, and Tundra was afraid what the answers would be.

But that would be a discussion for another day. She didn't want this moment to be ruined.

"What was that, luv?" Buck asked, shaking his head. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. My mind was elsewhere."

Tundra smirked. She could guess where it was, the dirty weasel. "Apparently, it is more important than the words coming from my lips," she said, leaning closer to Buck's face as if to kiss him. "You haven't even finished your breakfast."

Half of Buck's egg still remained in its shell. Tundra looked down, a huge grin across her face. "Let me help you with that." Remembering all the tricks and pranks Buck had played on her, Tundra thought a little payback was overdue. She pushed the weasel's face in the remains of the egg, splattering the weasel with yolk and eggshells.

"Aaarrgggh. You little mink," Buck shouted as he tried to regain visibility by wiping his eyes.

Tundra wasn't going to wait around. Leaping off the branch, she freefell out of the tree, grabbing a branch on her way down and swinging away over the heads of the family of dinosaurs. Behind her, she heard Buck coming after her, whooping with glee. It was a good thing she had a head start. Her muscles felt stiff after days of lying around. She was willing to push them to stay ahead as long as she could. But it would be just as fun being caught.

Miles away from the ice formation that protected the dinosaurs' world, a large ship made of bones sat inert in the soft powder. Dozens of sabers and dire wolves harnessed in teams at the front lay in the snow, waiting for the order to move out. The triple masts stood empty of their usual sails. A long, deep furrow trailed behind the ship like a long snake.

On deck, the crew lay around just like the sabers and wolves, either playing games of chance or practicing their fighting skills. The upper deck contained the helm, and farther along the stern was a throne of bones. But unlike the rest of the ship, the throne was made up of only one type of animal bones with skulls lining the top of the back rest. These were the bones of weasels.

Lounging in the throne, a female spotted weasel lay with her head against one arm rest and her legs dangling over the other, her eyes closed as if asleep.

Gliding down from the crow's nest, a large condor landed on the back rest, his talons scraping against the skulls until they found a good grip by hooking through the eye sockets.

"It has been five days, my captain," the vulture addressed the weasel, shifting his weight from one foot to the other excitedly. "The rat should have been my dinner yesterday."

The weasel stretched, her back arcing until one would think she would snap in half. She shifted onto her side, resting her check against her one palm. "Patience, Caliban, my pet. He must stew in his misery before his flesh will be yours," the weasel said, although her voice spoke of the boredom she had endured.

"I was promised," Caliban cawed, flapping his wings in irritation. "I will have meat. Fresh meat. A beating heart. Flowing blood. I was promised." He eyed some of the crew who sat nearby. His hungry expression horrified them, and they scampered away to escape the condor's gaze.

"You have such an unusual palate for a species that prefers its food dead and rotting," the weasel said, grinning from ear to ear. "I did promise. Let it be said that Captain Jez is a weasel of her word." She coolly stood up and climbed partially up the stern-most mast of the ship. This she did deftly despite the absence of her right arm.

"Bring out the prisoner," she called out to her crew.

This immediately set a chain reaction with the animals. Several went below as the rest set off a cacophony of whoops, yells and laughter at finally having some action. Caliban, feeling the excitement, flapped his wings as if he was taking off, but kept a grip on the bone throne.

The noise level of the crew increased as their comrades came from below, dragging the limp body of a large pack rat. The rat's pelt sagged on his frame, a sign that he had lost weight drastically. His face and body featured cuts and bruises that were partially healed.

"Red Claw," Captain Jez called, sliding down the mast and slowly descending a staircase to the lower deck. "I hope that your stay in the brig has jogged your memory as to the whereabouts of my brother."

"Maybe," Red Claw growled weakly. "But as always, the information belongs to me."

"Obviously you have not been taught to share," Jez said, her smile sickeningly sweet. "My pet can teach you rightly as you share your flesh with him." She pointed at Caliban with her sword.

Caliban screeched in anticipation.

"Then you'll never find Buck," Red Claw said, his insane grin showing how much he feared death. "You'll never get your revenge."

In a burst of speed, Captain Jez ran at the pack rat and kicked him in the stomach. "Oh, you males. You think too much on revenge. Where is the gain? Where is the satisfaction? Such a weak concept is above me."

"If you don't want revenge, then why do you want Buck?" Red Claw asked suspiciously, as if there was no other motive other than revenge.

Jez tried to give a loving smile, but it came out twisted. "He's my brother, my only family. I want to see him and make sure he's healthy." One of her eyes started to tick, and she scratched her shoulder where her missing arm should be.

Red Claw laughed. "I know you, Jez. You may think you're above me, but you want Buck just as dead as I. You need me, but there's nothing I need from you, wench."

Jez's face twisted with rage as she socked Red Claw across the jaw. The act of violence calmed her enough to compose herself. "Have you ever seen a mammal being eaten alive?" she asked Red Claw. "Oh, not like the wolves and sabers kill their prey. No, they're kind to their food, killing them quickly before they disembowel and devour. However, Caliban here has a talent of keeping his meal alive for as long as possible. It is quite fascinating."

The weasel smiled, putting her sword against Red Claw's throat. "You see, he won't go for your throat or break your back. He'll eat you limb by limb before he tears out your guts. And if you survive that, then he'll finally crack open your ribcage to gobble down your still beating heart."

Red Claw paled, but kept a staunch expression. "Do your worst, scum."

"Why do you protect him?" Jez shouted, pressing against the rat's throat with the flat of her blade. "I know you have no love for him. You hate him just as much as I do. Why go through all this for that double-crossing coward?"

"Because he's mine," Red Claw spat. "He destroyed our ship. That miserable flea-ridden pelt took The Black Ice and drove it to its distruction. It took me years to get another ship and crew, then he takes that away from me as well. I will drench my claws with his blood, or I will die."

Jez studied the madness in the rat's eyes before backing away. "It seems you cannot be reasoned with," she determined. She gestured to her missing arm. "Your squabble with my brother is petty compared to the treason he committed against his own flesh."

"Aye, I cannot deny that," Red Claw admitted. "But nonetheless, I have sworn an oath to get Buck. He will pay for mutinying against me."

Jez raised her chin. "It seems we are at an impasse. Very well. Caliban."

At the sound of his name, the condor raised his voice in anticipation for his captain's permission to feed.

"You will not be feasting on rat today," the weasel said, disappointing the condor. "Red Claw is no longer our prisoner."

The crew put away their weapons and withdrew, many faces disappointed that violence had been abstained.

"If anyone can feel empathy for your loss, it would be another captain," Jez reasoned. "In that case, perhaps an exchange is in order. In return for information on my brother's whereabouts, I promise we'll get your ship and crew back, after I deal with Buck."

"And my revenge?" the rat asked dangerously.

The weasel smiled. "That, too, will be arranged. After I'm through with him."

The rat smiled, the glint in his eye brightening. "It seems we have an accord." He held out his paw.

Jez shook on the agreement with a somber expression. "Take the helm and set the course. Mr. Stoogies, wake the teams. They'll have to pull against the wind, so keep the sails down."

Mr. Stoogies, a stately elk with an impressive display of antlers, nodded. He raised his voice, sending out a high call to signal the sabers and wolves. He was quite large compared to the other pirates, and the only one with hooves, which limited his mobility on the ship. But his size and power had been the reason Captain Jez had made him her first mate.

At the sound of the elk's call, the teams harnessed to the bone ship stood up and started to pull.

"Everyone to your places. Go, you sorry sack of bones or I'll strip you down and add you to my ship," Jez shouted to the rest of the crew.

The crew scrambled to work at the threat, except for Caliban who cawed angrily from his perch.

"My dinner. I must feed," Caliban crowed. His talons scraped roughly against the throne, knocking off one of the skulls. "You promised."

"Yes, I did, my pet. But I didn't promise who you would be feasting on," Captain Jez said, walking up the stairs to her throne. She picked up the skull that had rolled away, tossing it overboard. "Mr. Stoogies?"

"Aye, M'am," the elk replied.

"Is there any more prisoners in our brig?"

"Aye. We picked up a couple of dodos a few days back."

"Good. Release one out the back. Let him think we're freeing him," Jez said with a sadistic smile.

As the elk complied, Caliban screeched one more time before taking to the air.

Looking at her throne, Captain Jez frowned. The missing skull had created an unsightly gap on the backrest.

The perfect spot for Buck's head, once he gave her the information she wanted.

(Author's notes: Reviews are much appreciated, and I would like to ask readers if they have any questions for me or for the characters of the story, and they will be answered in the next chapter. See you next chapter.)