The Compass That Chose

The next morning, the smell of cooked Snuffleboar still hung in the air.

Bob ate a big breakfast. It was much better than dried meat. When he was full, he went to the water's edge to watch the fish swim.

Traveller did not eat. They sat on a large, flat rock, holding the silver compass from the box. They held it flat in their palm. The needle was still spinning. Around and around it went, a silver blur. It never stopped.

Bob watched them for a long time. Traveller turned the compass. They shook it gently. They held it up to the sky. Nothing changed. The needle just kept spinning.

He could see the quietness in Traveller's shoulders again. The same quiet as the campfire. The same as the sad man in town. It was the quiet of 'stuck'.

Bob finished watching the fish. He walked over to Traveller and peered at the compass in their hand. It was a pretty thing. The spinning was fun to watch.

He pointed a curious finger at it. "Spinny... thing?"

Traveller looked up from the compass, the deep shadow of their hood shifting. "Yes, Bob. A very spinny thing."

Bob wanted to touch it. He wanted to feel the spin. He held out his hands. "Bob... hold?"

Traveller was quiet for a moment. They looked from the spinning compass to Bob's plain, waiting face. They sighed, a soft sound of giving up. "Alright. But be careful with it."

They gently placed the silver compass into Bob's small, open palms.

The moment Bob's skin touched the cool metal, the spinning stopped.

It did not slow down. It just stopped. Click. As if it had finally found what it was looking for. The needle trembled for a second, then pointed, straight and sure, across the clear lake. It pointed towards a sharp, grey peak in the distant line of mountains.

Bob stared at it. The spinny thing was broken. Now it was a pointy thing.

Traveller stared at it, too. Their whole body was frozen. "Bob," they said, their voice a low, hushed whisper. "Don't move."

Bob stood very still.

"Now," Traveller said slowly. "Turn to your left."

Bob turned. The compass in his hands stayed steady. The needle did not move. It still pointed at the same mountain peak, even though Bob was now facing the woods.

"Walk towards me," Traveller said, their voice tight with something Bob had never heard before. Wonder.

Bob walked a few steps. The needle stayed locked on its target. It was not pointing north. It was pointing to a place. And it only worked when he was the one holding it.

Traveller let out a long, slow breath. They took the compass back from Bob's hands. The instant their fingers held it, the needle began to spin wildly again, lost.

They looked at Bob. Really looked at him. It was a different kind of look. Not the look for a small, lost companion. It was a look for something... more.

For a long time, they just stood there in the quiet morning, the sound of the water lapping at the shore.

Then, Traveller gently placed the compass back into Bob's hands. The needle stopped again. Click. It pointed the way.

"Well, Bob," Traveller said, and the smile was back in their voice, clearer than ever before. "It seems you are the one showing the way now."