His arm ached and he ignored it, thankful for the darkness hiding the sight of the blemish that became his left arm day after day. It spasmed and he bore it with gritted teeth. He wished to vomit but rebuked his urges. And then night fell, and he felt the ship grow at ease, the soft noise that was the beings of everyone aboard falling asleep, lessening the strain on his mind's eye. Mercifully, the tugging grew lighter.