Princess Fleabag wiped the last of the ink from her grubby paw and surveyed the letter before her. To an uneducated reader the parchment she held looked as if a litter of tiny kittens had trampled over the paper leaving black paw prints and scratches as evidence of their mischief but to the fortunate few cats who could read the parchment was a beautiful display of calligraphy and paw-manship.

The princess smiled at her handiwork, folded the paper delicately then melted some wax over the fold. When it had cooled just enough she pressed her front right paw into the red substance giving the letter the Royal Seal.

Her letter was complete.

It had been a rather dull afternoon in the Pink Starcastle. The Rain was thundering down outside and there weren’t many cats in the Kingdom who liked getting wet so the princess was stuck indoors. So after spending much of the morning moping and lazing around, followed by some whining and complaining she finally decided to make better use of her time and catch up on her royal duties; hence the letter.

In the Kingdom of the Littlecats the art of writing is held in very high regard and is a specialized subject that few have the privilege of learning. This is because there are actually two languages in the Littlecat Kingdom: the spoken language of Mioaw and the written language of Paw. The spoken language comes naturally to most cats but for an outsider it is nigh on impossible to learn as there are almost ten thousand ways to say “Miaow” alone not to mention the variations of “meow” and “mew.” Consequently the language is very difficult for a non-feline to master. It is however far less complex than its written counterpart: Paw.

As there are indeed over ten thousand different ways to say “Miaow” it would be entirely useless for there to be an alphabet so instead Paw consists of delicate claw strokes and paw prints that takes years of practice and study just to learn never mind master. In fact there are only three known Paw-Masters left in the Littlecat Kingdom and examples of their calligraphy are worth more than the finest catnip or toughest scratch-post money can buy. So although Princess Fleabag found the task tiresome, she practised her calligraphy every week by writing a letter which she would give to one of the guards stationed at the Starcastle entrance.

Mail service was quick in the Littlecat Kingdom for several reasons. The first was that letters with the Royal Seal always received priority over other mail. The second reason was that there was no other mail, for so few people knew how to write that letters were a rarity. The third reason was that this letter didn’t have far to go and as a result arrived at the address on the envelope the very next morning.

Thankfully the rain had stopped and Fleabag was able to climb up the steps to the Starcastle roof to see her best friend; the wise old gargoyle Hippoheid. She trotted out in front of him and placed the letter she had been carrying on the roof floor. He smiled at her, pleased to see his furry friend.

‘I got a letter,’ she announced.

Hippoheid eyed the handwriting on the front of the envelope before settling his gaze on the princess who was grooming her tail clean casually.

‘I do wonder who it’s from.’ Hippoheid said knowingly. He smirked and shook his giant head sending showers of water that had settled on his brow cascading over the castle to the Kingdom below soaking the black cats that were always unlucky enough to be strolling past.

‘Would you like to read it to me?’ asked the Fleabag with the sweetest and most innocent voice she could muster.

‘Oh no Miss Flea, I couldn’t do that. The letter is clearly addressed to you,’ Hippoheid replied.

‘But Hippo, you have such a lovely reading voice.’

‘Thank you Miss Flea, but letters are private affairs. They are a personal exchange between two people and not to be read by those other than the recipient.’

‘That’s okay Hippo,’ Fleabag said impatiently, ‘I don’t think it’s very personal and I tell you everything anyway. Will you read the letter?’

‘Hmm, I’m not sure little one. It has the Royal Seal on it and so should be kept for those with royal blood. Why don’t you read it yourself?’

Fleabag’s tail flicked back and forth irritably. When she spoke it was through a clenched muzzle.

‘But Hippo, you are practically royalty so I’m sure it is okay. Will you just read me the letter?’

It was Hippoheid’s turn to speak sweetly and innocently:

‘I just don’t know if I should Miss Flea. It just doesn’t seem right if it’s not addressed to me.’

Fleabag fumed. The gargoyle always managed to outwit her. It was so infuriating and she couldn’t help but raise her voice.

‘Hippoheid will you stop being so mean and please read me this-’

‘You only had to say please Princess,’ interrupted Hippo cheerily, ‘open it up then I do love letters.’

Fleabag glowered at the gargoyle but his silly stone face was impossible to stay mad at; she’d get him back one of these days. With a snort and a defeated mioaw she broke the Royal Seal, opened the letter and held it up for the Hippoheid to see.

‘Now then,’ he said peering down at the tiny letter beneath him, ‘hold it up higher, my eyes aren’t what they used to be you know.’

‘Oh nonsense Hippo you can see all the way to the other side of the Kingdom.’

‘Well of course I can but a little letter like this so close to my face it’s rather a bother.’ The princess duly obliged and stretched up on her hind legs.

‘That’s better. It really is beautifully written, Miss Flea. I’m sure whoever wrote this letter must be a skilled calligrapher.’ Fleabag blushed and hid her face behind the letter as the Hippoheid began to read.

‘Dear Princess Fleabag of the Littlecats. I am writing to you to tell you what a wonderful cat you are. I have known you all your life and I have never met anyone as beautiful and wise as you. I would even consider you wiser than the great Hippoheid himself.’ The gargoyle paused, unable to continue reading as the princess was giggling furiously and was unable to hold the letter still. ‘It would appear you have an admirer, Miss Flea. I wonder who could possibly think so highly of you.’

‘I’m sure there lots of cats who adore me. I am a princess after all!’

‘You are indeed little one, sometimes more so than you realise. Shall I continue?’

Fleabag stifled her giggles and nodded enthusiastically. ‘Now where was I? Ah… “wiser than the Hippoheid himself.” The letter trembled again but the princess quickly regained her composure.

‘I know you are a wise princess and I know you are a wonderful Magicat. When I heard how you helped mend Spangle’s broken heart I felt so proud to have you as our future Queen.’ Hippoheid stopped and looked down at the princess. ‘Did I ever tell you how proud I was of you too?’ Fleabag looked up at him in surprise.

‘No,’ she said quietly.

‘Well I was very proud of you, Miss Flea. You handled that situation with amazing maturity and the spell you cast was very skilful. You are on your way to being a wonderful ruler of the Littlecats.’ Fleabag said nothing. She hid her grin behind the letter again and wiped a tear from her eye. ‘Whoever wrote this letter must know you pretty well. I’ll read on shall I?

‘After you helped Spangle I thought to myself how wonderful your magic is. Only a great Magicat could mend a broken heart so that is why I am writing to you. I was hoping you might be interested in a magical experiment.

‘I am writing to you from a place that you are unable to travel to. I am so far away yet I am so close, for it is not distance that separates us… but time. I am writing to you from the past, Princess!’

Fleabag exploded with laughter and rolled across the rooftop with miaows of pleasure.

‘Whatever is the matter little one? I don’t think this letter is anything to be laughed at.’ Fleabag guffawed and sniggered and tears rolled down her furry cheeks.

‘It’s me!’ she squealed.

The Hippoheid smiled at her as she roared in delight. He loved the little cat and nothing made him happier than seeing his friend laughing.

‘You wrote this letter?’ he said, still playing along, ‘you wrote a letter to yourself?’

‘Yes it’s me. I wrote it.’ She rolled onto her back in another fit of laughter. ‘Oh it hurts!’

‘I see. Well you giggle away while I finish reading.’ Fleabag dropped the letter and tried to stop laughing while the Hippoheid strained his eyes and read on.

‘Yes that’s right it’s me, well actually it’s you; your former self! When you’re reading this it will be tomorrow and the rain will have stopped and you will be on the roof with Hippo.

‘I hate the rain, it feels horrible on my fur and I miss Hippo terribly when I can’t go outside and see him. Anyway I hope tomorrow is more fun than today and give Hippo my love.

‘Now, this is where the magic comes in. I had the idea of using a spell to reply to this letter. You could tell me about tomorrow so that if anything bad happens I can avoid it and have a nicer day. Aren’t we clever? I’m not sure what sort of spell to use but I’m sure you will have thought of something by tomorrow. Hippo will help.

‘Hope you are well, miaows and kisses, Princess Fleabag of the Littlecats.’

By the time the Hippoheid had finished the princess had wiped the last tears from her whiskers and was staring up at the gargoyle expectantly.

‘Well what do you think?’

‘Hmm well, quite frankly I think that is the most absurd idea I have ever heard.’ Fleabag was downcast. She knew it was rather a silly idea but it might have been fun to try. ‘Manipulating time is very dangerous and is not to be trifled with, Miss Flea.’

‘I’m sorry Hippo. I just thought it would have been fun.’

‘Magic should never be used for fun Princess. It’s all very well to learn a few tricks or slight of paw to entertain your friends but true magic should only be used as a last resort.’

‘Yes Hippo. I’m sorry, I should know better.’ She rubbed her cheek up against his chin affectionately. She knew full well she shouldn’t ever joke about magic with Hippoheid. He had watched over the Littlecat Kingdom for hundreds of years and had seen all sorts of battles take place. He had seen both good and bad Magicats come and go.

‘That’s okay little one, I know you are just eager to learn but you need to be a little more patient. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to finish this letter of yours.’

Fleabag looked at him strangely.

‘But you’ve already finished it,’ she said.

‘Yes but I haven’t read the P.S. at the bottom.’ Fleabag’s eyes widened.

‘I didn’t write any P.S.’ She snatch the letter up and scanned the bottom of the page. Sure enough in her own paw-writing was an extra line she hadn’t written. It read:

“P.S. Spangle is home. Why not pay him a visit.”

‘I didn’t write that!’ she exclaimed.

‘Are you quite sure, young lady, this isn’t another one of your jokes is it?’

‘No Hippo, I promise. I never wrote the P.S. and I certainly wouldn’t joke about Spangle being home. I’m so worried about him.’

The Hippoheid’s stony face was as grave as a tombstone.

‘This is worrying. I have been watching Spangle’s tavern closely since he left but nobody has come or gone. Hold the letter up to my nose, princess.’ Fleabag did as instructed and held the letter up in front of the huge cavern that was one of Hippo’s nostrils. The gargoyle sniffed the letter and Fleabag had to hold on tightly to the roof for she certainly didn’t want to be sucked up Hippo’s nose.

‘This letter has traces of magic in it. You haven’t already tried to send it to your former self have you?’

‘No Hippo, I promise. I always come to you before I cast any spells I’m unsure of.’

‘Then this is a serious matter. Someone has enchanted your mail, Miss Flea. Normally I would have detected it sooner but it is a strong enchantment which has managed to hide within the paper. I suspect that if this has anything to do with Spangle then it must also have something to do with-’

‘Lapan,’ spat Fleabag, finishing Hippo’s sentence. ‘What is that horrible Chihuahua up to now? I hope Spangle and Anastasia are alright.’

‘I hope so too Miss Flea. I guess we’re going to have to try and find out. You’ll have to go visit Spangle’s tavern. I know it is a trap but I can’t see any other way to find out what Lapan is planning. I will keep watch from here. If anything happens to you send a signal and I will alert the city guards.’

‘Okay Hippo. Sometimes I wish you were my size and you could come with me.’

‘I’m always with you little one. You are the bravest princess I have ever served, Miss Flea.’

‘Am I really?’ asked Fleabag incredulously.

‘Without a doubt, now go and get to the bottom of this and be careful.’

‘I will Hippo, I promise.’ She leapt up and rubbed his cheek with her own then sprinted down from the roof to the gardens below her heart racing at the prospect of what lay in store for her at Spangle’s tavern.

Fleabag took the familiar road once again down to the Laughing Furball. She walked with caution, always watching for any sign of a surprise attack or the tingle in the air that signified the casting of magic.

Heavy clouds had gathered and threatened to repeat the previous day’s downpour and as such the streets of the Littlecat Kingdom were deserted. The empty streets and bad weather only enhanced Fleabag’s sense of foreboding and as she approached the tavern her heart raced.

Crouching low she edged her way across the face of the tavern as if she were hunting and her prey lurked inside. There seemed to be no discernible dangers so she crept forward keeping her body flat against the ground and pushed open the front door.

The air inside was still but something was here, she could sense it. She slipped inside the tavern in absolute silence.

Everything was exactly as she remembered it to be on the day Spangle left to rescue Anastasia, everything but the thin layer of dust that had settled over the furniture and floor. The same layer of dust that had an imprint of paw marks leading away from the door. She sniffed the prints but instead of any scent she felt the familiar tingle of magic. The sensation rippled along her whiskers and caused the tip of her tail to curl.

The tracks looked to be feline but Fleabag knew not to take anything for granted. Lapan could easily use magic to disguise his canine paw prints. If this was some kind of trap then these tracks was obviously intended to lead her directly into it. Surely Lapan was more cunning than that?

Flea knew she would have to use all her cunning and guile to outwit Lapan so, instead of following the trail or sneaking round a different way, she decided to use the element of surprise and do what Lapan would surely expect least.

She leapt into the middle of the room, screaming at the top of her voice while clawing and slashing the air like a whirlwind of claws.

‘Come out and face me you bug eyed Chihuahua!’ she screamed. This frenzied attack continued for several minutes until the princess was overwhelmed by feeling of embarrassment. There was nobody here.

She shrugged and followed the footsteps that led behind the bar. The prints then stopped suddenly as if whatever had made them had just vanished into thin air. Fleabag could smell a trap. These prints where designed to lead her away from the door.

The princess spun round just in time to see the front door slam shut and a plume of purple smoke materialize in the middle of the room. The smoke flashed little stars and sparks that swirled around a small shape in the centre that slowly, mockingly began to laugh. The high pitched tones of Lapan were unmistakeable.

‘Ha ha hee, how clever is me. I’ve been waiting to see if you would arrive. Have you never heard the expression “Curiosity killed the cat?” You dumb cats always have to stick your whiskers where they’re not wanted don’t you?’

The smoke dissipated to reveal the evil Chihuahua Lapan standing on top of a table grinning gleefully.

‘Get out of my Kingdom Lapan,’ Fleabag demanded bravely. Her heart was in her throat as she made her way round the bar to face her nemesis.

Hippoheid had always said that she was still not ready to take on the evil maniac. Fleabag hoped that he was just being overprotective, there was no way out.

‘Oh it won’t be your Kingdom for much longer little runt. With you out of the way my Dog Squad shall invade and your wretched little kingdom shall be mine. Mine, mine, mine, not yours, but mine, yip yip, yip!’

Lapan hopped around the table chasing his rodent-like tail like some kind of demented puppy.

‘You’re mad, dog, absolutely mad,’ Fleabag told the crazed Chihuahua. Lapan froze in mock horror.

‘Don’t you wuv me anymore wittle pussy cat? Ha ha hee. Call me what you wish, wretched princess, others will see only my genius. I Lapan, the evil Chihuahua, will single-handedly take over and rule the Littlecat Kingdom. All will worship my greatness and speak of me for centuries to come: Lapan the destroyer of cats!’ The dog beat his chest with a paw.

‘You’re not nearly powerful enough to hurt me Lapan,’ said Fleabag unconvincingly. Lapan glared at her, his mood suddenly grave.

‘You really are a stupid cat aren’t you? Look at my collar princess-stupid-cat. You see the beautiful diamond studs?’

Fleabag glanced at the dog collar. Seven large diamonds circled Lapan’s neck. They caught the light and shimmered with an unnatural colour.

‘Stored magic,’ Lapan told her proudly, ‘only a mind as vast and clever as my own could have found a way to store magic.’

Fleabag staggered away from him in horror.

‘Impossible,’ was all she could utter. Lapan grinned at her. Foam festered at the side of his mouth.

‘Nothing is impossible for Lapan. Shall I show you how it works, stupid cat? If you just stand still for a moment it will only take a second to destroy you.’

The diamond collar flashed white then purple and began to glow as the magic inside each of the jewels craved release.

Fleabag considered her options. It didn’t take long. There was no way out, there was no way she could cast a spell against such magic. There was nothing she could do.

‘Hee haw, yip yip,’ he barked, ‘the end of cats is upon us. Today is the day of dogs, yip yip.’

Lapan raised his front paws as the deadly collar brightened and magic seeped around the dog’s neck and along his legs to gather in his paws.

‘Goodbye goodbye, cats will die,’ he sang.

Fleabag puffed out her chest and sat down. If this was to be the day she died then she would do so as a princess: proud and fearless. In her last few moments she thought about Spangle and Anastasia; were they safe? Were they together? She thought about Hippoheid. She would miss that big gargoyle so much. If only she could send him a message then…

A thought came to her.

It flickered across her mind like a shooting star; quick and so very faint yet perhaps, if she wished hard enough….

‘Be gone horrid cat!’ Lapan screamed.

He raised his paws behind his head. They both held two fiery balls of light that spun in angry circles. The princess covered her eyes. Her idea had come too late. She held her breath as the fiery balls grew in size and anger and turned into…

…

…

…two almost inaudible knocks on the door.

‘Who the blazes is that?’ Lapan yelped angrily as another two knocks were heard. ‘I hate to be disturbed when I’m being evil.’

The princess opened her eyes and couldn’t help but smirk. Perhaps her idea hadn’t come too late after all.

The third knock on the door was answered by the irate Chihuahua. Lapan threw open the door to find a small ginger cat standing in a uniform and carrying a brown satchel.

‘I have some mail,’ he said timidly, as he came face to face with the incensed dog. With trembling paws he pulled a red envelope from the satchel.

‘Well who is it for, you ginger waste of fur? I’m rather busy here you know!’ The mail-cat cowered under Lapan’s temper and read out the name on the envelope:

‘The evil Chihuahua Lapan.’

Lapan’s ears drooped and his bulging eyes bulged even further till Fleabag thought they might fall out of his head and roll away.

‘For little old me? How lovely. Nobody has ever sent me a letter before.’ He snatched the envelope from the mail-cat’s trembling hands and slammed the door in his face. Lapan hugged the envelope as if it were his long lost brother. He turned the letter over in his paws and ripped open the seal impatiently.

The letter burst out of his paws as tiny magical fireworks exploded into the air accompanied by a fanfare of trumpets. The tiny fireworks spun around his head whooping and whizzing in a sparkle of colours.

‘Whee!’ cried Lapan, as they flashed past his ears. When they had all disappeared he retrieved the gold card from the envelope and read it aloud.

‘Congratulations, you are a winner!’ Lapan’s eyes bulged even further. ‘I’m a winner. I’m a winner,’ he cried chasing his tail for a few moments before reading the rest of the card. ‘To claim your amazing prize come to Dogtown Kennel immediately, but be quick or the draw shall be repeated. This winning ticket is for a limited time only.’ Lapan barked in panic. ‘That’s my prize. I’m the winner. Me, me!’ With a sudden yelp he raced out the door and vanished.

Fleabag waited patiently until she was sure Lapan would not return. She knew dogs were easily distracted but she was still surprised that he would rush off when he had the chance to destroy her. She sighed with relief and left the tavern. She realised that she was trembling. She had come so close to being defeated yet that letter saved her at the last minute. Next time she met Lapan she would be ready. With that magic filled collar he was more dangerous than ever. It was time to speak to Hippoheid about increasing her magic training. Something would have to be done about that dog once and for all.

She returned to the Pink Starcastle making a quick detour to purchase a red envelope and some card. There was a letter she would have to remember to write, a special magic letter that would save her life.