Will covered his face with the furry hood to keep the cold out, struggling to see where he was going.

"Jack?" His muffled voice was carried away by the wind, causing no reaction in the other shuffling pile of fur. Will braced the satchel on his back and took a few steps to level the trotting man .

"Jack?"

The fur pile opened enough to reveal an inquiring glimpse.

"What?".

"Are you sure we're going the right way? There's nothing but trees here."

"Well, how do we ever know here we are?"

Jack pushed the hood of his coat back to look at Will properly, risking his frozen nose for it. "So as long as we are going to get out of these woods, we're good."

"But can't you check it? The direction?"

"With what?" Jack staggered, looking away.

"With your compass, perhaps?"

The hairy mass that was Jack suddenly leapt, leaving Will behind before he could catch up.

"Jack!"

"What"

"The compass?"

"Look, Will… Listen to me... The compass is useless at the time, so we will just go where our luck takes us, and that's that."

"The compass is broken, isn't it? I knew it!"

"The compass works fine. Oh, yes, indeed, just fine!" Jack flailed irritably. "In fact, I would, for once, be glad it was broken."

"So it's useless because it works. How, pray tell, is that possible?"

With a long suffering sigh, Jack rolled his eyes. "The bloody thing keeps pointing at you and refuses to move from that, savvy?" Jack turned and trudged forth to the unknown.

After getting some composure after the stunning revelation, Will started after Jack and sided with him again.

"The compass points at me."

"Has the wind done some permanent damage to your brain? I'd hate to have to repeat everything I say for the rest of me life."

Oblivious, Will blurted out the obvious; "Why is the compass pointing at me?"

With a heavy sigh Jack stopped again and peeked from beneath the edges of the hood. "I have," He began annoyed, "so much as much as helped you into that skin for the past four days, and that's as much as I've been able to get my hands on you. And I want to touch you. Bad. I wouldn't necessarily need the compass to tell me that, but apparently it is strongly disagreeing with the subject, what with pointing rather steadfastly to the one thing I want most. Well, not a thing , but I'm sure you get the meaning. So unless you have a warm, preferably soft, private place in mind, the compass will continue finding you as attractive as I do."

Understanding arising, pointedly, shall we say, Will nearly fell over his own feet, before straightening himself and pointing to a certain direction with a smirk, attempting nonchalance; "…Oh, well… There is that rather promising light in the distance…"

To be fair, the pair of them couldn't have reached the improbable inn quite fast enough.