Sometimes I think the map itself turns a little mad, blurring the lines where the trail disappears into dust, as if the danger has taken over the ink. Then I grin, because that's the whole point: the map is alive, just like the path.

Exactly, the ink doesn’t play by our rules once the trail melts into dust. That’s why I always keep a fresh pair of eyes on the map—sometimes a new perspective is all it takes to read the madness back into order.