Chapter Text
It started with a logbook.
Corr was surprised when Swanfeather came up to him and offered a well made bag with a carrying strap. It was waterproof, but small enough that it couldn’t hold much. There was just enough space for a medium sized book. And that, in fact, was what Corr found inside when he first opened it.
“What’s this?”
“A logbook-what does it look like?” There were times when Swanfeather looked and sounded uncannily like her mother, Captain Lady Arran, She favored her father, Captain Padra, but any exasperation soon made it obvious who her mother was. Fortunately, the blending of her parents’ temperaments meant that such moments were usually fleeting.
Sighing as he often did at such times, Corr replied calmly. “I see that it’s a logbook, Feathers, but what is it for?”
“For keeping a log, silly! When you’re out there doing Voyager things! You’ll be alone a fair bit of time, I expect, and with not much to do. I thought maybe you’d like something to help you pass the time.
“Besides…none of us can go with you. Not more than twice, anyway, not if we want to come back.” Here Swanfeather scuffed one paw on the dock. “It’d be nice to read what you have to say about everything out there, when it’s still fresh in your mind.”
That made Corr shut his mouth. He looked down at the book, suddenly shy. It wasn’t that he never got any presents. Actually, between his various relatives at home and friends around the tower, the quarters he had occupied since moving out of Urchin’s room were a jumble of keepsakes.
Nothing he’d ever been given was quite like this, though.
Most of the items he’d been given for use as a Voyager were necessities. A finely made boat, and a new sword to replace his page’s blade. Needle had provided blankets and a warm cloak. She had also delivered a dry remark about no longer needing to borrow cloaks from the Tower workrooms without permission.
However, Swanfeather’s logbook was a different sort of considerate. It addressed not a physical need, but emotional ones. For, as Swanfeather had said, being at sea by himself was lonely and at times boring for Corr. And there had been times where he’d felt like his recollections of the world beyond the mists didn’t always come out as he wanted when he recounted them aloud.
“I…I don’t know what to say. Except-well, thanks, Swanfeather.”
Corr’s friend grinned, pleased. And though he’d seen that grin many times before, it made Corr feel unexpectedly warm on this occasion.
On his first quest afterwards, Corr would again feel that new warmth. It came when he drew the logbook from its carrying bag to make his first entry. When he opened it to the first page, he found that it had already been written on. Recognizing Swanfeather’s untidy script, he smiled as he deciphered her message.
Hello Corr! Bet you weren’t expecting this. I thought that as I’m expecting you to write things for me to read in this logbook, it’s only fair for me to write some things for you. Kind of like those letters the swans carry between Mistmantle and Whitewings.
There’s not too much to say this time around. I’ll have to be sure I keep track of what happens while you’re away so I can write it when you get back. With any luck this’ll help me improve my writing too. Tide always says it’s easier untangling nets than reading my messages.
Your friend,
Swanfeather
Despite the pleasant surprise of the message, Corr found himself frowning. He doubted that Tide would say anything so critical. More likely was that Tide had offered some kind of encouragement, only for Swanfeather to take it badly. She could be hard on herself.
Kind of like me, he thought ruefully. Then, with a smile, he pulled out a pencil. Turning to the first blank page, he began to write.