A/N: Dear Abrahem,

I'm glad you're enjoying this fic. Thanks again for the nice reviews. I can see what you're getting at with Tuco and Sharpfur- but at the same time Sharpfur is a whole lot more bark than bite. So while yes, he can stomach the idea of flaying Hawthorn alive and rolling her in salt for laughing at him (irrespective of whether or not he's grown attached to her and Grollo) doing it is not something he wouldn't be okay with. Even killing to survive- as was the case with the cannibals and pirates, isn't something he's going to boast about or be proud of. So I do get your meaning but also want to point out that Sharpfur is less ruthless than 'hang yourself at gunpoint' tuco.

What fanfics to reccomend... Hmmm...

Well you seem okay with reading about the adventures of anthropomorphic animals so:

First of all, myself (yes I would stoop so low) I write a lot and have got a pretty wide range of stories to choose from. Surreal horror, sad endings, laugh out loud fics... It's more or less all there. I would reccomend starting with... The Feral Islands if you're familiar with Kung Fu Panda, if not try the Twelve Great Labours of Hercules.

And so as not to seem too selfish or bigheaded I will point you towards a few other authors:

Berserker88 and Mind Jack respectively. Both deal with ridiculously quirky characters, and while their writing is generally more 'haha' than 'drama' they have got a bunch of really neat twists and when they do decide to release the feels... Well they do it well...

From Mind Jack's profile I would recommend Silence of the Hare because it's a) his most written story and b) entertaining. It's not quite done and currently on hiatus and is going to (eventually) get remade but he has been busy which leads me to...

From Berserker88 I would recommend you start with Born to Be Wilde both because it's on-going and probably his best work so far but also because it's just plain good. Note I recommend this not (entirely) due to my friendship with the author(s) but because it's just plain good. If it's too long for you and you'd prefer getting eased in, try something small-er like On Their Own. Easy-to-follow uncomplicated story that just so happens to be entertaining.

I think that's probably enough for now. If you want more than I'm more than happy to share but if you're going through all of the above (plus the rest of mentioned author's list of creations) I think you should be kept busy for a little while (which should also make the waits between updates much more bearable).

I gotta also point out to you the advantages of having an account- TLDR it's just easier to keep track of different stories if you follow them rather than having to continuously check for updates (especially if you follow a lot of them). But I don't want to keep nagging you about it and I don't particularly mind responding to your reviews here (the story/author recommendations are for everyone and anyone interested by the way)

Also, since this note is already long enough to get lost in, Black and White has now passed the 100K word milestone... which is neat.

And now say hello to someone you may or may not have forgotten existed (I kinda did). Also please note that this chapter takes place not-in-the-present. This is a catch-up on Grey Claw and this one takes place a bit after we left him. Before or during the timeskip.

Being a mouse was hard. Or rather being a rat pretending to be a mouse was hard. Grey Claw honestly had no idea how he was doing it, but so far he- or rather the Skipper- had managed to convince an entire holt of otters that he was a mouse.

Jack and Tibbers had liked the idea very much, probably because it meant they wouldn't have to explain what they were doing with a rat to begin with. And as Jack assured him, it would make fitting in at Salamandastron much easier.

"Well it's bally hard to trust your kind, don't cha know? Rats and hares have fought tooth and claw for longer than we've both been alive and I don't think a lot of the older hares would fancy having the companionship of one. And ahem, some of the younger... recruits. Just act like a mouse and call yourself something mousey!"

"But I don't know any mouse names! And I don't want to go to Salamandastron, Sharpfur said vermin all die there. And Sharpfur said that there's a badger there, and everybeast knows badgers are vicious an' bloodthirsty and like using our tiny skulls to spoon sugar into their tea. Sharpfur said so anyways."

"Try Bartholomew." Offered Tibbers. The shrew was looking a lot less pale now that he had both decent food and rest and well... a healer.

"Or Berty! Don't worry Grey, everything'll be swell when we get there. As it happens my old pops was rather high in the chain of command- wouldn't surprise me if I could just admit you're a rat and no questions asked."

"No! Nonononono! The Long Patrol hate rats." Otters, the Guosim and the mad hares of the Long patrol- all three he and Sharpfur had been forbidden from approaching.

"Well they don't hate you good fellow, they've never met you. I have and say that you're not half-bad, honestly speaking. Besides, it's not like we don't have our reasons to ahem, dislike your form of living."

"And badgers can't be so bad." Tibbers was nodding in agreement. "Oh yes, there was one at Redwall and she didn't seem likely to eat our skulls."

"But you're not a rat!" Whined Greyclaw, clutching at his ears and rocking to and fro.

"And neither are you." Jack reminded him with a wink. "You're Bartholomew Berty Bally Bandana, the mouse."

"I'm Barsolomew Barty Bully Banana?"

"See! You're already getting the hang of it, wot."

"Alright... Banana... my name is Banana."

"That's the ticket! Now, let's think of what we're going to say." He gave both companions a conspiratorial waggle of his eyebrows. "The two of us were just the Dishonest Bunch's latest victims-"

"Guests-"

"You on the other hand." The hare poked Greyclaw in the chest. "Have been their captive for as long as you can remember. You don't know where you're from, nor do you know anything that is not somehow related to verminkind- but still you have managed to maintain the good teachings of your sweet mother-"

"Mother said to avoid the Long patrol at all costs!"

"Of your mouse mother."

"But she was a weasel-"

"But they don't know that and cannot know that no matter what, wot. Remember, you're not adopted."

"What?"

"Wot."

"Alright." Greyclaw nodded in understanding. "So I'm supposed to pretend that I'm a mouse that was raised like a rat that's not a rat pretending to be a mouse?"

"Bingo." Jack patted him jovially on the head. "Now, let's practice. So Banana, where're you from?"

There was a long pause.

"Banana." Jack's voice was slightly more stern this time around.

"Oh right, I'm a banana, yes. Um, I don't know."

"Why do you not know?"

"Er- is it because I only remember the Honest Bunch?"

"Is it?"

"It is?"

"See Grey, you're really getting the hang of this mouse-business, wot."

"Okay. I'm Banana. I am Banana."

"Exactly! Now remember Grey, if ye ever feel like yer going to get caught- don't panic. Me and Tibbers are here to help you fool the wool, wot. But if yer ever caught unawares, change the subject."

"To what?"

"Anything! Anything except vermin and yourself. Talk about the weather. The weather always works."

Greyclaw nodded. "Okay."

Several days went by and Grey's cover had yet to slip. It was probably because the Skipper doted on him so much that nobeast dared point out anything discrepant about 'Banana'. And there were many. Now that his body was not in mortal peril the monsters were all in his mind, and when he went to sleep they crawled out the corners of his head and filled his mind with darkness and blood and Sharpfur screaming. It was lucky Tibbers and Jack had warmed up to him, or else he would have been caught by now. The hare in particular was good at covering for him. Once Angus and Andrew, a pair of identical twins, had been probing into his name.

"So, Banana,"

"What exactly is a banana?"

"I heard it's a yellow fruit-"

"Yer thinkin' of the orange one mate."

"Oh, right, so banana's red?"

Grey opened his mouth to say something, but found his throat filled with air. No words could find their path to freedom and his heart pattered into a panic.

"No. Banana's purple. Oranges are orange."

"But he's not yellow, orange, red or purple."

"It's why we're asking him numpty."

"Don't call me numpty, numpty!"

"Numpty!" Shouted Jack, throwing a bucket of water (bucket and all) at the two. Grey breathed a sigh of relief as the hare was promptly chased by the inseparable pair.

For now he was safe...

But nothing kept the nightmares at bay. He woke up earlier than the rest, covered in cold sweat and breathing deeply.

There was a storm that night, outside and inside. The wind howled and and cried like a swarm of deadbeasts. Grey could do nothing but shiver beneath his blanket, whimpering as in his mind's eyes Sharpfur was hitting him. But it was not the usual smack of annoyance, or the little weasel testing his punches. No, Sharpfur was furious with him. The little weasel was so much bigger now, and spared no inch of him. Long red claws drew gashes of crimson along his soft flesh. They dug deep, deeper than Sharpfur had ever poked. And in the background the noises of his family shouted encouragement. Silvertongue was singing ominously. Blizzard, Heratrip and Redtail were giving cruel, painful suggestions and Cheese was chewing through his tail. His little sisters were at his feet, peeling the skin off with their little claws. And Sickletail was cooking chunks of his side in a soup and forcing him to drink. The liquid burned his throat. Silvertongue's voice rose in pitch and there was a grave crescendo as Sharpfur went for his dirk.

A flash of lightning made the rat squeak into life. He was dripping in sweat and was shaking uncontrollably. Try as he might he could not push the thoughts of his nightmare out of his mind. His throat was uncomfortably dry and Greyclaw decided he needed a drink- anything to keep him from thinking about Sharpfur's claws digging deep.

He shivered and padded over to a barrel, only to find a small, wooden cup waiting for him. He looked up and found the Skipper smirking slightly.

Greyclaw accepted the drink gratefully and took huge gulps. Unfortunately, he drank too quickly and had to cough.

The otter gave a hearty laugh and pulled the little rat next to him. "Trouble sleeping."

Grey nodded timidly. As frightening as the huge otter was, with all the battle scars and his booming voice and all his stories filled to the brim with dead vermin... he was nice.

"Ah, I get them all the time." For a second his mind seemed to drift. "Say Berty... how was it like livin' with vermin?"

"Well... not bad."

The otter raised an eyebrow and Greyclaw's heart went into a frenzy.

"I mean they didn't kill me, or torture me or anything like that. I'm still alive, eh?"

His smile returned slightly. "Ye got lucky." Then his face fell into a frown. "Lost a couple of mates of mine to vermin." There was a long drawn out pause, wherein Grey had no idea what he was supposed to say. "One of 'em looked like ye, you know." He said suddenly, turning to the rat besides him and staring with interest.

"Small wood, eh? Hahaha." Grey was growing more and more nervous by the second. He did not want to be caught in the act of lying by this vicious killer of vermin.

"I... don't suppose... your mother found you in a river?"

For half a second he couldn't breathe. He had been found in a river. How did he know about Sickletail? "Nope! My mother was a mouse and er- she was my mother." He remembered what Jack had told him and repeated with interest. "I'm not adopted."

The Skipper chuckled, but failed to hide a hint of disappointment that lingered in his eyes. He patted Grey softly on the back. "Ah well. The woods aren't so small after all. But still..."

"Mr Skipper?" Change the subject. Jack-is-lucky had told him to change the subject. "The er- the weather's not nice today, is it?"

The Skipper raised an eyebrow, before he began to shake with laughter. "The weather- Ha! Course it's not nice."

"W-what I meant to say was er- what's the difference between a rat and a mouse?" He blurted out the first question that popped into his head, and continued with his speech. "B-because you said that- that any idiot can tell the difference but... I don't know many- any mice and, and I want to um, not mistake them for a rat."

It took a short amount of time for the Skipper's face to split into a grin, but when it did it was wide and his teeth were white. "To be honest, there's not much to tell 'em apart physically. Rats are generally bigger, got longer snouts see-" He said, tapping Greyclaw's snout. "An' they're dirtier, like when we first found ye. The untrained eye would have said ye were a rat- but like I said, ye look like me old messmates- and none of them were rats I can say for certain. Never had a rat on this ship before- and I never will."

Greyclaw swallowed.

"I s'ppose the real difference is the way they act. Rats are vermin. Mice are not. It's not hard to tell 'em apart when ye meet 'em."

"W-why? W-what do vermin act like?"

Skipper patted him on the head. "Ye'll have nightmares again. Go to sleep Berty. It's late. It's dark. Yer..." The otter unexpectedly hugged him, and squeezed tight. "Yer too young to know."

I think I already do...