For a long minute, nothing happened. The wolves' orange signatures drifted closer to the Ghost Pines. The Baron's wagon crawled forward. Then, Leif's blue dot changed. It turned green—an acknowledgment.
A chime sounded. A new notification.
"Don't go north of the creek, lad," Elias whispered to the glowing pane. The map obliged, zooming in. It showed the old Bellwright logging road, now overgrown. But more importantly, it showed heat . A cluster of orange signatures huddled near the "Ghost Pines" marker—a pack of wolves, stirred by the recent drought.
He zoomed out. The entire province of Bellwright sprawled before him, a patchwork of green (safe), yellow (contested), and red (dead). He marked the caravan's route. Then, he marked the bandit ambush point he had scouted yesterday. Finally, he dragged Leif's blue dot toward a rocky outcropping overlooking the road.