Once a week, Douglásc redrew the compass; each time, he would curse, mumbling things Sif did not understand to himself, and presumably to Iudrige.

He wore the ring a few times; but Iudrige had little to say beyond lamenting Douglásc's madness and entreating Sif to do something about his wickedness.

This time, too, was the same-

" It's grown closer to us... What the hell is going on?" Douglásc said, glaring down at the little ship like he wanted to smash it.

" Is it not a good thing that it comes to us, rather than having to go out and find it?" Sif commented, laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. The room seemed to grow more disorganized every time he was called in to visit.

" Could it have been? But who else would desire your body in that way, and be able to fulfill it?" Douglásc said out loud.

Sif sat up.

" What does Iudrige think?" he asked.

Douglásc jumped a little, looking over at Sif.

" She's worried that someone else is possessing it," he said. " I don't really think that's possible, though... At this point, none of the others have survived."

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