At the edge of the maritime chart table, the silent, dark wooden carving of a goat's head kept watching Duncan—a gaze more unsettling in its silence than the other, chattering goat's head.
Duncan finally couldn't ignore the gaze anymore and had to lift his head from his thoughts to ask, "Why do you keep staring at me?"
"I thought you would go 'steering' again, like last time," the goat's head said slowly, "It felt... very strange."
Duncan raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised, "You want me to steer again?"
"I don't know, I just feel it's incredible," the goat's head pondered, its tone uncertain, "I can feel this 'ship', I understand every part of it, yet I don't know how to communicate with it... It's like an old friend of mine, but I have forgotten about it, so it ignores me now. Last time, when you went to the aft deck and grasped the steering wheel... I seemed to hear its voice."
"Oh? You heard 'its' voice? What kind of voice was it?"
