After Anita spent half the night working on it, Werther finally saw what the special pointer she had mentioned looked like the next morning.
It looked so flimsy that it might fall apart at any moment. Anita had to carry both the pointer and its base out by hand; otherwise, Werther felt sure it would collapse.
"This is your pointer that always points in the same direction? This thing? Are you sure it won't fall apart?"
Anita blushed a little at Werther's words.
"Don't worry about the details. It just needs to point us in the right direction. Come on, let's throw a shoe." She started taking off her own shoe.
"If you dare throw that shoe, I'll hang you up and whip you. Pick any direction. Straight ahead will do. Lock it in."
The shoe-throwing idea was a black hole of nonsense. The thought of setting their course by where a shoe landed made Werther feel that something was deeply wrong.
"No! We have to throw a shoe. Throwing shoes brings good luck."
At that, Werther raised his hand, ready to knock the idea out of her.
"Baldy, don't hit me! I'm serious. I'm not joking.
"A ship once got trapped in the Tide-Red Sea. While they were stranded, a genius navigator invented this kind of pointer. To choose a direction, she threw a shoe. People copied her after that, hoping it would lead them out of these waters too.
"So I didn't make up the part about shoes bringing good luck. Hit me again and I'll bite you."
With that, Anita tossed the shoe in her hand. After checking which way its toe pointed, she adjusted the special pointer.
Werther had no answer to her story, though something about it still felt wrong.
As for Tuski, he had