The van continued its slow advance through increasingly dense vegetation. Its tires rolled over damp soil, leaving faint tracks behind the giant leaves and ancient roots that curled out from beneath the earth. The chirping of unfamiliar birds and the hum of insects mixed with the low rumble of the engine. The air grew thicker, more humid, and warmer despite the sun barely piercing through the dense canopy above.
Ren glanced at the navigation screen—there was no reliable map. There were no satellites, and all the data he had was a digitized version of a centuries-old map, compiled from the notes of an explorer whose name had long since been lost to time.
"Eastern Penal Plains, this longitude… tropical. But we're in the south," Ren muttered, tapping the dashboard screen. "Geographically, that makes no sense."
