Klis did not see much of Swallowtail over the coming days. A fleeting glance here, a sly wave there, and a crumpled up piece of parchment shoved into his paw when Clogg wasn't looking. The rat had become the burly ferret's shadow and his one good eye was ever-vigilant, but he could not always keep it trained on Klis. Whenever Clogg's attention wavered, something crisp and papery would find itself in his grasp. It would stay there until Clogg sent him to his cabin and Klis could unfurl it in the safety of an oblivious Bork's snoring.

At present the faux Whimper lay on a swaying hammock. He sighed with contentment, his eyes fixed firmly on the parchment and the squiggles inked onto it. This, the fifth one, read:

'Helloooooo? Are ye readin' this or not? Do you even know how to read?'

Klis could not, in fact, read, so he had no idea what the letters meant, but he had no doubt that it was something sweet and romantic. He felt pangs of guilt at night for being unable to return the gesture with love notes of his own, and lay awake staring at her pretty paw-writing. It was all very clean, very neat and very nice. It would have made an illuminator scream, but Klis had lower standards, and besides that he was in love. Not that he knew it...

"Hey Bork! Do ye know how to write?" Klis asked one morning, when Clogg was otherwise occupied. One of the Captains had supplied the other ships with thirty barrels of pickled-herring-without-salt (which had gone bad) and the incensed pirates were out for blood.

"Maybe," replied the wolverine prince, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"

"I er- need ye te write somethin' for me," the burly ferret glanced around to make sure nobeast was looking. "It's for a jill."

Bork 'hmmmmmmed' loudly and Klis could tell that he was trying to invoke the air of his father, Longclaw, who's 'hmmmmmm's sent shivers through bones. "I could write something for yew, yes it would be easy…" here Bork's greedy face split into a grin. "But what are ye offerin' in return?"

"My rations for today, tomorrow an' the day after," Klis promised, knowing that Bork would agree only if food was involved. "If I starve, I'll starve happy."

"Ye won't starve, yer fat," said Bork, waving a dismissive paw. "Get the ink an' paper, I'll write what ye tell me to."

In half a heartbeat Klis pulled out a piece of parchment (one of Swallowtail's old messages) and a bottle of ink he had filched from Clogg. "Also er Bork… please don't tell Clogg about this."

"It's alright, I won't," Bork promised, flicking off the ink bottle's lid with one of his long claws. New inspiration hit him, and the cunning Longclaw within him returned. "If yew give me yer rations for a whole week anyways."

"Aww no Bork! Then I'll starves!"

The wolverine prince shrugged. "An' Clogg will know all about yer ink bottle."

"F-fine," Klis relented with a strangled sob. "I'll give ye my rations for a whole week if yew don't tell Clogg anythin' about this."

Bork nodded in satisfaction. "So what do I write?"

Klis cleared his throat and began pacing. "Well I reckon we ought ter start with a greetin'- somethin' like 'ahoy', an' then I should ask her what she's feelin' like. Does she like the weather an' things like that. Then write somethin' about her bein' very-" here Klis hesitated a moment, knowing what Bork's reaction would be. "Very b-b-beautiful," he stammered out, blood rushing to his ears.

The wolverine, who had already begun writing, made a noise of disgust, but wrote something down all the same.

"Tell her that I-I think her eyes are very pretty an' she's got a lovely tail." Klis paused now to purr. "Sometimes I dream about her…"

"Yew disgust me," said Bork, disgusted.

"Oh sh-shut up," Klis snapped, going beetroot red beneath his fur. "I can't help it."

Bork shook his head from side to side, as if to say 'to each his own' (or rather, 'what kind of ninny doesn't dream about food?') and continued to scribble on the parchment.

"A-an' tell her that I'll talk when I can but Clogg's not lettin' me out of his sight. Then sign it as 'Whimper, but te yew it's Klis.' An' er- maybe draw a heart in the corner?"

Once more Bork pretended to retch before doing the deed. "Done," said the wolverine, handing the parchment back to Klis as if it were some sort of rotten, foul and terrible thing.

"Oh thanks Bork!" the burly ferret stared briefly at the squiggles Bork had put onto the page, and wrapped his arms around it with a sigh of contentment. "She's goin' te love this!"

She's goin' te love this when she reads it… Klis thought to himself. It was one thing for Swallowtail to pass him a note, but another thing entirely for him to get one to her. He did not know her cabin, her ship or her crew and dared not ask anybeast in Clogg's presence. The crumpled note was currently squeezed under his left armpit and grew more and more uncomfortable there by the minute. But, next to the look of bloody murder that would no doubt pass over Clogg's face should he find the secret message, Klis found the discomfort bearable.

"How am I goin' te get this te her?" he wondered aloud, as the rations were being dealt out. The cooks of the pirate fleet went round twice a day, handing out bowls of preserved vittles (which were either too salty or too rotten for anybeast's liking) and ship's biscuits (which were rather different and much less tasty than the average biscuit) to the hungry pirates. They worked as one, going aboard the various ships one by one and keeping a careful track over who ate how much. And occasionally, they dealt with particularly ungrateful corsairs.

"Hey Deckswab, ye call this food?" demanded a wall-eyed stoat, stretching his footpaw out and deliberately tripping the unfortunate stowaway ferret. "Yer biscuits taste like wood!"

Choptail did not give any form of reply, but even Klis could tell that he was holding back tears.

"Made this outtofa shipwreck, did ye?" the stoat continued to jeer, waving the biscuit in the air so that all could see it. "At least-"

"Oi! That's enough!" snapped Klis, as a sudden, brilliant scheme became known to him. "Let the stowaway do his job. If ye don't like the rations, don't eat 'em. But they're all we have an' if I hear a single bad word about any of 'em I'll- I'll…" Klis trailed off lamely, fully aware that most of the deck was watching and he was rapidly losing his crowd. Think, think, think- EUREKA! "I'll set Bork on the lot of yew!"

"The Prince does not frighten us," the insolent stoat replied, his face twisting into a sneer. "An' neither do yew Marick-son!"

"Scarface weren't scared of me either," Klis pointed out, miserably. What kind of warlord's son was he, if not even a dead stoat feared him? "B-but he's dead now." The two puzzle pieces connected and the burly ferret's face spread into a grin as realization hit him. "B-bad things happen te beasts who don't fear me!"

This gave the wall-eyed stoat pause. He bit into the hard tack thoughtfully, bowed his head and turned back to his meager meal without another word.

"Now, Deckswab, was it?" Klis went on, as if there had been no interruption. "I've got somethin' te discuss with yew a-alone. It's er-" Klis eyed the various pirates around him briefly. "It's about these Hellgates-damned biscuits yer makin'!"

The insolent stoat did a spit take at the clear hypocrisy as Klis dragged the whimpering Choptail off towards an empty cabin.

"So, Deckswab. I need yew te do me a favour." The burly ferret placed the crumpled, slightly-wet-from-sweat note into the fat ferret's paw.

"N-not another map," whined the cook, who was now beginning to wish he had stayed in the Northlands. At least then he'd be given the privilege of seasoning himself.

Klis ignored him, too caught up in his own ingenious scheming to care about the fat ferret's words. It was so perfect! Nobeast would ever suspect the stowaway! And if any of the letters were intercepted Klis could feign ignorance and point an accusatory claw at the shorter ferret. It was foolproof!

"Ye go round te all the ships, right? Well, I need yew te give this message te a very pretty jill called Swallertail- while yer handin' out the rations so that nobeast sees. A-an' I needs yew te be discreet about it. Nobeast can know what this is, ye hear me?"

Choptail swallowed audibly, but nevertheless nodded his understanding.

"I might ask ye to do this again from time te time," the burly ferret went on. "An' tell her that if she's got anythin' te tell me she can do it through yew. Oh an' make sure that that letter goes te her an' only to her."

Choptail nodded again, but Klis felt now was a good time to practice his threatening. He imagined he would have to do a lot of it in the future. Clogg did it all the time, after all. "A-an' if anybeast finds out a-about this I-I'll make sure Bork gets extra rations!"

The fat ferret blinked at the vague threat.

"I'll make sure he eats yew, that is." The burly ferret clarified.

"Right. Of course." Choptail swallowed audibly. "I-I'll do it."

Klis sighed happily and punched the flabby ferret none-too-lightly on the arm. "Thanks Deckswab, I knew I could rely on yew."

"He's off his rocker," Swallowtail shook her head in disbelief. Comfortably seated opposite the Manywhiskers in his new quarters, she read from the crumpled piece of parchment Choptail had snuck into her gruel. "'Tell her that I think her eyes are very pretty and she's got a lovely tail. Sometimes I dream about her. Oh shut up. I can't help it. And tell her that I'll talk when I can but Clogg's not lettin' me out of his sight. Then sign it as "Whimper, but te yew it's Klis."'"

"It is clearly some kind of code," said the Manywhiskers, twirling a whisker.

"Oh sure it is," Swallowtail's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Klis couldn't write a code to save his life, an' yew know it. I ain't even sure if he knows how te write."

"That's being a tad harsh. And in any case you'd be surprised what fear can make a beast do, why observe!" the whiskered one opened the door of Captain Scarface's old cabin and gestured at Mudfoot and Dungear, who were swabbing the deck with their tails.

"See, cap'n?" swallowed one.

"Jus' like we said!" squeaked the other.

"See Swallow! The impossible becomes possible when fear is applied!" The Manywhiskers shut the door.

"So ye're sayin' he's scared, then?" Swallowtail was still wearing a skeptical frown. "Scared of what?"

"No doubt he left the answer here in this message! Have I taught you nothing Swallow? You have to decipher the meaning. Not every letter is apparent. Here he most likely used a molly-mimble."

"A… what?"

"A simple enough cipher. You take the first letter of every word and you swap it around like so and then you add a few of the left over letters, then you toss in the last letters and you fold the paper in half-"

"W-I-R-W-O-T-S-W-A-G..." Swallowtail turned her frown towards the feline's whiskery face. "That don't make any sense."

"Of course not! It's a cipher. It tells you what you need to change each letter into, see?"

Swallowtail furrowed her brow, the Manywhisker's insistence beginning to chip away at her skepticism. "So the 't' thing becomes a 'w'?"

"Yes! You're getting quite good at this. And then the next letter says how to order them. But look!" Manywhiskers brandished his folded paper in front of Swallowtail's nose.

"What is it?" the jill demanded, drawing away from the parchment lest it give her a papercut.

"The decoded message, of course! Let's see what we have-" The wildcat gasped. Swallowtail rolled her eyes instinctively. "Oh no! It's just as I feared! 'Send help! Bork is starving me!'"

"Ugh," Swallowtail slumped forwards. "These plans of yers had better be worth it…"

"Oh don't worry," said the Manywhiskers, fixing her with a bright smile. He pulled up a fresh piece of parchment, some ink and a quill and began scratching out a note in response. "I'm sure they will be. I trust you're not finding this a hard assignment?"

"Well… no," she confessed, scratching the tip of her snout. "Clogg keeps gettin' in the way though. Hard enough te get through Klis' thick skull when that rat ain't poking his nose in."

"Hmmm, I think I have an idea." Pulling a fresh parchment towards himself, the Manywhispers grinned. "Care to help with a bit of forgery?"

"If you got rid of Darkhide," whispered the Manywhispers. "It would be doing everybeast a favour. But try and be subtle about it. We wouldn't want your pelt hanging besides her's now would we?"

"Bein' slavemaster was so much easier," Brown-eye muttered. "Ye never had te be subtle about teachin' slaves a lesson. Could've just chopped 'em te bits an' never thought about 'em ever again." It had occurred to him that, as first mate, he was in his rights to chop up the dark furred rat and never think about her again. He was, however, not so keen on trying this out when the closest thing to shelter he had was the crow's nest and the closest thing he had to allies were a stowaway and a captain who did not like him much.

The stoat sagged against the railings of the ship with a longing sigh. "If I had me whip though…" Brown-eyes whip had been an extension of himself, a way to keep the slaves under control and to vent his frustrations into, yes, but also as much a part of him as his tail was. If it were still in his possession he would have already made short work of the she-rat.

Still, Brown-eye was not without cunning. All he really needed was to get close enough to put a knife in her back. Or her stomach. He didn't really have a preference.

And so it was, with all the theatrics of one born into an acting troupe, the stoat sauntered over to Darkhide and her constant companions, a ferret in a yellow cloak and a gold-toothed sea rat.

"Marick's brat shouldn't be hard te steal from," the ferret was saying. Brown-eye stopped in his tracks, his ears perking up in delight and curiosity. Marick's brat? Stealing? They were plotting something dastardly and he had caught them at it! Captain will be proud! "I bet he won't even notice it's-"

Darkhide made a small coughing noise, and pointed her snout at Brown-eye. "What'd ye want lookout?"

Perhaps I should've gone for the plan where I stealthily sneaks in an' kills her… Brown-eye did his best to maintain an air of cheerfulness, and yawned in an exaggerated fashion that fooled nobeast. "Oh nothin' much. More rations maybe- but that's life at sea I suppose. Only way te get more would be by stealin' it." He couldn't resist smirking pointedly. I've gotcha now rat!

"What do yew know about stealin', eh?" Scringewhiskers growled. The ferret advanced upon the stoat, his paws balled up into fists.

"Less than yew seein' as I'm not plottin' any robberies." Brown-eye retorted, dropping the act altogether and balling up his own paws. "I bet the Captain would love te hear about yew lot though. Marick's son? Maybe I should tell him te get his flayin' knife ready."

"Aye, you go do that." Darkhide brushed past Scringewhiskers so that she was muzzle to muzzle with Brown-eye. The two glared at each other with palpable hatred. "Marick's brat doesn't know what a flayin' knife is. Now, Brown-eye, was it? I'm only goin' te say this once so remember it. If ye want te live longer than a fortnight ye'll stick te the crow's nest an' stay out of my way."

"Course," Brown-eye snorted, undaunted by the threat. "The crow's nest. Mayhaps I ought ter give ye the same advice rat. Crawl up the mast an' make sure I don't find yew else I'll-" The flash of cold steel silenced him. Darkhide sliced through the old leather of his belt and shoved him hard. Tripping over his collapsing pants, Brown-eye fell and hit the deck hard.

"Ye'll what?" Darkhide demanded, waving her knife. The stoat stared at it, cross-eyed and pale-faced. The she-rat gave him no more than a derisive snort and shoved past him. "Next time ye make threats, make sure ye've at least got a blade te back yew up."

Scringewhiskers grinned cruelly and followed after her. Fleaback paused only to spit on his face.

"I'll get yew rat," Brown-eye snarled, scrambling both to get to his feet and to pull up his pants. Alas, his belt was beyond repair. "Yew an' yer damn knife too!"

Of course, he said none of this loud enough to be heard.

"I'm gonna need a knife of me own," the stoat muttered.

"Now what would she say here…" the Manywhispers purred. ""My heart aches for you as if it were pierced by a hundred knives, as keen as the winter wind blowing from the north?"

"A bit much?" Swallowtail snorted, staring cross-eyed at the Manywhisker's writing. "How about… my love for yew is like a knife coz it cuts me straight te the bone?"

"Ooh yes! She always did like a dark twist! Well, now all I have to do is siiiiiign it and there we go! One diversion, ready for Choptail to deliver when we see fit." The Manywhispers pulled another piece of parchment towards himself and rolled it up. "And another letter for our dear Klis."

It had been an extra-stressful day and so Choptail helped himself to an extra-large portion of second helpings. He even managed to procure a pair of old, mouldy custard creams (which still tasted far better than anything aboard the fleet).

"Ye know we're supposed te be on rations, right?"

The fat ferret whirled around, nearly choking on his snack as he did so. Swallowtail stood right behind him, shaking her head.

"Please-" the stowaway began to beg.

"Relax. I ain't tellin' anybeast," she waved a rolled-up parchment in the air. "I need yew te give this te Whimper. Y'know, Marick's son." She leaned forwards against him, batted her eyelashes and slipped the paper into the front pocket of his apron. "Think yew can do that for me?"

Choptail, already as pink as a flamingo, nodded vigorously.

He knew full well she was not interested in him of course, but it had been a pleasant exchange all the same. And she was the only beast so far who hadn't threatened to kill him should he fail. He exitted the kitchen shortly after she left, intent on doing her bidding as swiftly as possible.

Only to trip over a particularly long tail and fall on his flabby face.

"Whoops, sorry about that mate," a tall, dark rat- the owner of said particularly long tail- smiled disarmingly as he helped Choptail to his feetpaws.

"It's no bother," the fat ferret replied, rubbing at his nose.

Nevertheless, the tall rat dusted him off with surprising gentleness. "Oh I insist. You could have seriously hurt yourself, friend." A paw slipped into the apron pocket, and withdrew one of the papers inside.

"H-hey!" Choptail began to protest, but the rat stood tall and silenced him with his shadow.

"Does she visit you often?" he asked, in the same polite tone, but there was a sinister edge to his voice now. No reply but the truth would suffice.

"N-no. Today was the first time."

"Of course," the tall rat smiled and curled his tail around the pilfered paper, before pulling it out of sight. "Well I am so sorry for the interruption. Please, do go on with your evening. Oh and many thanks for making the rations as palatable as you do."

Choptail watched the rat turn away, Swallowtail's letter still gripped tightly in his tail. The fat ferret drooped miserably, and made his way back towards the kitchen.

"It could be worse," he muttered, making sure that the Manywhisker's map was still safe in his apron pocket. "She didn't say she killed me if I failed…"

His run-in with the tall rat had rekindled his appetite for comfort food. Choptail nibbled at a claw, wondering whether or not to brave the three-day-old sardine stew, when a paw clamped down over his mouth and a butter knife was pressed into his lower back.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't 'Deckswab'!" Browneye cackled. "Fancy findin' yew here Choptail! I was sure Longclaw had yew for supper one night. Gave me yer job one morning without explanation an' well, ye know how he is. But no, here ye are, alive an' as fat as ever!" The former slavemaster smacked the flabby ferret's wide behind none-too lightly and let go of his muzzle.

"Hullo Brown," Choptail muttered, rubbing his wounded bottom. "I didn't expect te find yew here either."

"I got a promotion," Brown-eye grinned. "Captain Clogg's first mate an' right-paw beast I am. It's tough work, an' I miss the slaves but ye know- movin' up in life an' all that. One day I might even have me own slave galley."

Choptail nodded, awkwardly nibbling at a claw again.

"Damn, still can't believe yer alive," Brown-eye sighed to break the silence. Then his eyes narrowed. "But I didn't come in te play catch-up. I know ye've got a map." The butter knife was leveled at Choptail's nose. "Paw it over."

"B-bu-"

"Now, now Choppy, don't make me cut yer tail."

"That's a butter knife," Choptail pointed out, with an audible gulp. "They're blunt."

"It's the best I could find, okay?" Brown-eye snapped, brandishing his blade. "An' pirates sharpen everythin' Choppy! I reckons I could…" he swiped at an unfortunate piece of pickled herring, neatly beheading it. Both vermin blinked. "It seems te cut just fine."

The fat ferret whimpered. "B-but we're friends!"

"We are, which is why I'm not goin' te tell anybeast where I got the map from, eh? Now paw it over afore I chop yer nose off. C'mon, chop-chop!"

To Choptail it was a question of immediate pain versus future pain. Thus, despite his fear of the Manywhiskers he withdrew the map from his apron pocket and placed it in Brown-eye's waiting paw.

"Well then, see ye around," The stoat grinned, tucking away both the map and the knife. He gave a mocking bow, and left the ferret to his terror.

"Brilliant Thrak. Ruthlessly efficient, as always," Poisonblade unfolded the paper, a small smile spreading across her face. "Of course, the Manywhispers… he has left us a riddle."

"Naturally. What does it say Captain?"

The she-rat cleared her throat. "'Dear Klis, I snuck a few jars of herring into the Dreaded's crow's nest. There's a small sack of custard creams under Ripple Sharkbreath's squeaky floorboard (he doesn't even know it's there!) and a pair of mouldy loaves waiting for you in Toothclaw's display. I will send more food when I can.' Ha! It's not even signed- how perfect. Well then Thrak, I have another job for you."

The tall rat straightened up, his arms folded behind his back. "Your bidding, Captain, is my sole duty."

"Find the jars of herring, the sack of custard creams and the pair of mouldy loaves." Poisonblade noticed her lackey's raised eyebrow and shook her head in disbelief. "There is more to them than meets the eye Thrak."

"Captain!" Brown-eye saluted smartly, ignoring the sudden narrowing of the rat's good eye. "I have somethin' important te discuss with yew." He glanced sidelong at the cheerful-looking Whimper. "In private."

Clogg harrumphed and crossed his arms over his chest. I should never have made this idiot first mate. "If this is another bit of rubbish-"

"No no Captain. I understand now my duty as first mate is to stay out of your way and do as you ask of me." Clogg had drilled the notion rather firmly into the stoat's skull after the previous incident. "But this is about…" Brown-eye checked to make sure the coast was clear, leaned forwards, and whispered. "A treasure map!"

"A map?" The one-eyed rat was unimpressed, and did not bother lowering his voice.

"Y-yes a treasure map!" the former slavemaster hopped from footpaw to footpaw in anticipation. He too, was no longer bothering with secrecy.

Klis swallowed audibly, his own treasure map tucked painfully in his right armpit. How did Brown-eye find out about it? What was he going to tell Clogg? Was the stoat aware of his involvement?

Clogg frowned. "This is startin' te sound like a waste of time."

"I-it's not!" Brown-eye protested, whipping out the roll of paper he had taken from Choptail. "Look, I have it right here!"

Clogg's frown deepened, yet still the rat unrolled the parchment. "This ain't map," he grumbled.

Dear Clogg,

He flinched, immediately recognising the paw-writing and catching a faint whiff of an eerily familiar perfume.

Oh how I miss the times where you and I were but one beast.

Clogg swallowed audibly, his one good eye widening in horror.

The fiery sensations we shared! Do you still bear the marks of love's first kiss?

The rat captain whined, and it took a conscious effort to not search himself for said marks.

I admit I still possess the blades we used to carve our stars into place, the first time we joined claws.

A whimper unbefitting anybeast of his station escaped him. Both Klis and Brown-eye stared on in worry.

It seems a lifetime ago that we were both so young and so in love. I yearn for our past togetherness to return and last forever.

Clogg went pale as beads of sweat began to trickle from his forehead.

My love for you is like a knife, for it cuts me straight to the bone.

The one-eyed rat swallowed audibly, deeply grateful that Klis (who was staring at the 'map' from over his shoulder with a concerned look on his face) couldn't read. His eye trailed off towards the bottom of the letter.

There he found the words he had been dreading the most.

With lots of love and a thousand iron kisses,

Poisonblade

The rat winced once more, and thrust the letter at arm's length as if worried it would do him some great physical harm.

"Well Captain?" Brown-eye proceeded cautiously.

Clogg cleared his throat, and swiftly tucked the letter out of sight. "It's nothin' of import." The brown-eyed stoat blinked. "But er- thank yew for bringing it te my attention. Dismissed."

Brown-eye saluted smartly, his chest puffed out, and turned away with a head held high.

"Whimper, if ye'll excuse me for a moment I'll be in me cabin. I've got er- important duties to attend to."

The Manywhispers watched and smiled from a shadowy corner as Clogg hurried off to burn the letter. No doubt it had been an excellent forgery!

Klis watched Clogg's retreating back until the one-eyed rat slammed his cabin door shut. Wasting no time at all, the burly ferret hurried off below deck to find Choptail.

"Did ye do it?" he asked, startling the flabby ferret. Klis' heart beat with excitement as his tail wagged from side to side. There was something exhilarating and a little bit romantic about having a secret relationship. The constant risk of being caught and punished somehow made the few and limited exchanges of one ferret to another that much sweeter.

"M-Marik-son," Choptail squeaked, his wide, terrified eyeballs locking with Klis' own.

"Did yew give her the letter?"

"I-I did," the cook swallowed audibly. "B-but then I… I lost the- w-what she wanted me to give you."

"Oh," Klis' face fell. His heart, which had been soaring moments before, fell back into place with a dull thud. His tail stopped wagging abruptly. But nevertheless, his ears perked up. "B-but she got what I gave her?"

"A-aye. She did." Choptail swallowed again, and opted for a dash of flattery. "She loved e-everything about it, of course. Said the p-paw-writing was superb."

"Oh, the paw-writing. B-but I didn't write that." It was Klis' turn to swallow his nerves. "B-Bork did, w-which means she likes B-Bork's p-paw writing. A-and she thinks it's mine!" The burly ferret clutched the sides of his face in panic. "What if she finds out I can't write? A-an' that Bork wrote everythin' for me." A terrifying image manifested itself in his mind's eye, of Swallowtail wrapped up in a pair of massive, flabby arms and sharing a passionate kiss with the wolverine prince.

Klis screamed.

"Maybe I'm overreacting," he said a short while later, folding his paws together to hide their shaking. "I-it's just, S-swallow scares me. B-but in a good way. Like, my heart gets all fluttery and I g-get all shaky around her b-but I don't mind being… shaky…"

"Very poetic," Choptail praised. Flattery was always best served in large doses.

"Wait that's it! I'll write her a poem! A-an' if she finds out that Bork wrote it the words will still be mine. So really it'll be like I wrote it!"

"B-brilliant!"

"Oh Swallowtail, the moon to me sun, how do yew shine on such a bright day?" Klis sighed.

Choptail blinked. The kitchen was silent.

Suddenly feeling very aware of himself, Klis turned to glare at the cook. "If yew tell a word of this te anybeast-"

"You'll chop my tail t-to bits," the flabby ferret finished with a squeak. He was getting far too many death threats for comfort these days. "A-an' feed me te the sharks yes, yes, I know."

It was Klis' turn to blink. "Well… I was thinkin' more I'd knock yer teeth loose." Klis scratched the back of his neck. "B-but that works too. I'll have te remember it. Just don't tell anybeast. N-now if ye'll excuse me I've got ter go bribe Bork some more…"

"Alright Bork, I need yew te write more stuff fer me." Klis produced the necessary paper, quill and ink with a flourish.

"If it's more mushy love stuff," Bork pulled a face to underline his disgust. "Forget it. I've already got yer rations."

"What if I gave yew more?" the burly ferret offered, refusing to give up so easily.

"Ye can't give me more, because yer also on rations." Bork pointed out. "Yew get the same as everybeast else."

"Well actually I get less then that," Klis huffed. "Seein' as yew eat all my food."

"Yew gave 'em te me," the wolverine shrugged.

"I know," the ferret sighed. "Can't yew just write me somethin'? As a friend?"

Bork 'hmmmmmed' in his pathetic Longclaw impression, before batting the ferret away with a dismissive paw and a playful giggle. "Naaaaaah."

"Oh c'mon!" Klis complained, skidding on his rump from the force of his dismissal. "I'd do yew a favour if yew asked fer it!"

"Sure ye would." Bork rolled his eyes and faked a yawn. "Yer kind of borin', ye know that?

"I'm not borin'!" Klis protested. "An' I'd do yew any favours yew needed, coz I'm not a snobby prince!"

The wolverine crossed his paws over his stomach. "I ain't snobby."

"Yes yew are! Sittin' down an' doin' nothing but eatin' an' complaining- that's what a snob does alright! No, if ye weren't snobby ye'd write me this one mushy letter- but I know ye are snobby coz ye definitely won't do that!" Klis put away the quill, parchment and ink and spun on his heel with a great huff. "I'll just go an' find somebeast who will."

Bork growled and took the bait Klis had unintentionally set before him. "Fine! I'll write yer stupid, mushy letter for yer stupid jill- but only this once te prove that I ain't a snob an' never will be!" The wolverine rose to his rather impressive full height, and held his paw out for the parchment.

It did not occur to either of them that neither really knew what a snob was.

"Alright, start with 'Dear Swallowtail- actually no! Don't do that! I-it's too soon for me te call her dear. Alright. Er- we'll skip that part, she knows I'm talkin' te her anyways. Ooh! I've got it!" Klis cleared his throat. "When I f-first laid eyes on yew I-I was a little bit scared."

Bork stuck his tongue out in disgust, but nevertheless began painting letters upon the parchment.

"I had a bit of a reputation, I suppose, but most of it I made up. I'm just an ordinary hob really, even if I'm a warlord's heir. An' then yew came along with that- that swagger only yew possess! The way yew swashed yer hips a-an' swayed yer tail I just..." Klis sighed, oblivious to the horrible looks Bork was shooting his way. "An' yer eyes. Ye've got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. B-but I don't like yew just coz yer pretty- I bet everybeast says that about yew. I just want te thank yew again for helpin' me. I don't like it much at sea, what with all the rationin', and the salt an' the water but… yew've made my time aboard this vessel easier. I- I hate sailin' but I would sail all over the world with yew." He sighed again, the very thought filling him with a warm, soft fuzz that reminded him of summer clouds. "Swallowtail my angel-"

"Stoooooop!" Bork raised a paw for silence while furiously scribbling with the other. "I can't write down that last bit."

"Why not!?" demanded Klis, paws clenched into fists. "I was just gettin' started!"

The wolverine twisted the parchment around and declared in a triumphant voice. "I'm out of paper!" Bork grinned. "And Not. A. Snob."

Scowling, Klis snatched the letter away. He glanced at the parchment, his features softening immediately. He had no doubt that Swallowtail would love it. "Thanks Bork," he purred.

"Don't mention it," Bork yawned, tossing the quill overboard.

The burly ferret shot off like an arrow from a bowstring, his heart hammering with happiness. Nothing, not even the thought of Clogg finding out about his secret pen-pal, could dampen his spirits now. A dozen pirates had to jump out of his way as he skipped across the decks with no sense of direction, but what did they matter? Nothing but Swallowtail mattered!

"If only I could have written more," he sighed heavily. "Oh Swallow, I'd walk through every storm in the world for yew. I-if I hadn't given Bork all me rations there's nobeast else I'd be sharin' 'em with. I-" Klis ground to a sudden halt, blinking at the sudden, shocking thought. "I think I... love yew." As the realization set in, he fainted, the rolled up paper still clutched tightly to his chest.