The tribesmen led them deeper into the Dark Continent.
The journey took days.
There were no roads, at least none that Ludwig could recognize as roads. The humans followed routes made from memory, scent, broken branches, and markings so subtle that even Redd failed to notice some of them until they were pointed out. A strip of pale bark cut from the underside of a branch. Three stones pressed into mud. Black thread tied around a root and hidden beneath moss. Signs meant to guide those who knew where to look while remaining invisible to everything else.
They crossed dense thickets where thorned branches locked together tightly enough to form walls. The tribesmen moved through narrow gaps Ludwig would have mistaken for animal paths, sometimes crawling beneath roots or crossing streams through tunnels hidden under hanging vines. At other times, the forests opened without warning into broad empty lands where nothing taller than dry grass grew.
Those open stretches were worse.
