The process of finding usable sticks on an island covered in trees was unusually difficult. The area all around the great lakes had a healthy population of conifer trees. Pines ruled much of the northern forests that lined the lakes, but there didn't seem to be any here.

The island was completely devoid of any of the large white pines or cedars that made the great lakes a hotspot for logging activities.

Even with plenty of time to examine the trees around himself, Roth was completely unable to identify them. How so many trees could survive and hold their structure while being so completely covered in lichen escaped Roth. There was no way they could be getting any sort of energy from the sun with that kind of carpet covering them, yet they somehow were still enduring the fierce blizzards that could topple massive freighters like the Fitz.

In the end, the crew's solution was to lop off the lower branches of two of the trees, then make a makeshift lean-to between them.

After a couple of hours of searching, they finally managed to gather enough sturdy branches to make their shelter.

Covering the roof wasn't too hard, and they used some lichen-covered branches as thick ceiling material.

Noon had long since passed, and while the sky had yet to begin dimming, it wouldn't be long. The shortening of the days with the approach of the deep winter decreased the time they could use daylight greatly.

It didn't help that the island seemed to be perpetually covered in a thick pelt of clouds, blocking out any direct sunlight.

After starting up a small fire with a lighter from his pack, Holl surveyed their new camp with a satisfied expression.

They'd managed to find enough dry sticks to keep the fire running overnight, and now they wouldn't need to worry about quickly freezing to death if a wind blew over the island.

Their new camp was also on top of a small hill, just high enough for them to see over many of the surrounding treetops and down to the water below.

If there was someone passing by, they would be able to see the ship, and hopefully the vessel would notice the smoke wafting up from the island.

"It'll start to get dark soon… I'm surprised Cundy hasn't come back to grab some food."

Roth walked over to where Holl was surveying their last few hours of hard work, then handed the captain a chunk of dried jerky.

"Mm. He'll be back soon."

After biting off a piece of the jerky, the captain's eyes seemed to glaze over as he stared off at the massive lake visible over the treetops. Roth had been planning on talking to the man more, but seeing how he seemed to be spaced out, the young man decided to give up.

Instead, he headed back over to the lean-to and sat down on one of the blankets they'd placed on the forest floor.

He reached into his backpack, then unfurled the sheepskin map bundled up inside of it.

Let's see… we should be right around here.

Roth's finger pointed at a spot close to where he'd pointed out to Holl back on the ship.

The map doesn't have any islands recorded here… odd.

As far as the young man knew, the map in his hands was one of the most detailed ones in the entire region. Even the standardized ones used by large shipping companies lacked some of the details contained by the one in his hands.

And now it'll be even more detailed.

Reaching back into his backpack, Roth withdrew a small case filled with tools. His hands shook a bit as he cracked open the case, revealing a small booklet and a classic ink pen.

Even with the little booklet closed, Roth knew what was inside. Every page was filled with a sketch of a map, either fanciful or real.

All of them were drawn by Roth.

And now I finally get to update a real map! Heh, even Grandpa told me that in the time since he got it, he was only able to update it a few times…

Roth's parents hadn't taken any interest in the ancient sheepskin map, but Roth's grandfather, who'd brought the young couple over from across the Atlantic Ocean, dedicated much of the later years of his life to researching the piece of sheepskin.

When he died, he passed the relic on to Roth, who showed the same passion for cartography that'd escaped his son and daughter-in-law.

He told me a story of how this was a relic passed on from the Ojibwe to a French missionary, and then through a few more sets of hands before reaching his own, being updated and maintained every step along the way… and now I get to add my own mark to it.

Roth paused his actions to recount the location one more time. Thanks to the anger Holl had displayed shortly after they found the island, Roth could vividly remember the exact location he'd given to the captain.

Alright. This is the correct spot.

After double, triple, and quadruple checking his measurements, Roth finally wetted the tip of the pen and touched it down to the map's surface…

And the map disappeared.

The sheepskin was still there, but its surface went blank. All of the centuries of creation and updates, the small details maintained by countless hands, disappeared the moment his pen touched the surface of the map.

What the hell?!

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Roth's brain paused as he stared at the blank page, but his hand continued moving as if compelled by something. An intense heat started to build up in the young man's wrist, like it was being held over a pot of steaming water.

He could already expertly trace lines thanks to his endless practice on paper, but that couldn't explain what his hand was doing right now.

Despite him having no knowledge of the total size of the island or its exact outline, his hand somehow traced it onto the map. Once the craggy outline of the island was complete, his hand continued moving, but Roth got the feeling that he could control himself once again.

His hand was still moving on its own, now placing details onto the interior of the island. It only detailed a small path, though, cutting right toward the center of the island and following along a small stream.

Portions of elevation lines also appeared, building up to a small hill. When his hand reached the top, it sketched a small triangle.

Wha… what is going on?!

Just as his hand finally relaxed, Roth heard the sound of someone approaching the lean-to. He whirled around to see who it was, still holding the map in his hands.

On the sheepskin artifact, the small triangle noting Roth's position turned at the same time, matching his movements.

"A-ah, You startled me."

One of Roth's eyes twitched as he noticed the moving ink on the page, but he quickly composed himself. Before Bindon could get close enough to see the map's largely empty surface, Roth rolled it back into a scroll and wrapped the leather cord around to bind it shut.

Bindon's gloved left hand twitched as he paused in front of Roth, his gaze fixing on the map in the young man's hands.

"I was trying to figure out where exactly we are, but I don't see any islands on my map around here…"

Roth could see a second glove clutched in the sailor's hand, and his right arm was tucked into his coat.

"Is there something wrong?"

Just as Bindon was about to open his mouth, a loud pair of footsteps approached the two of them.

"You two, come with me. Cundy's been gone way too long now, it's almost getting dark."

Huh?

Roth glanced up at the sky.

The captain was right.

The bright light illuminating the low clouds over the island had nearly reached the horizon, and soon the brief, weak warmth it brought would fade away as well.

But it was barely just past noon… and I couldn't have been looking at the map for more than a couple of minutes. Even when it changed, it happened in an instant…

"Yes, captain."

Bindon seemed to shake himself out of whatever reverie he was in, pulling his bare hand out from where it was tucked into his inside coat pocket. Roth tucked the map back into his backpack, but as he moved, he kept his eyes trained on Bindon.

There is something weird about him now, too. That booklet… I bet he has it in his coat pocket right now.

After packing away his map, Roth pulled his backpack onto his shoulders and walked over to where Bindon and Holl were already waiting. Both of them also had their packs with, though they had emptied out some of the less-useful items and were leaving them at the camp. With the oddities they'd seen with the boat, none of them wanted to be stranded somewhere on the island without the supplies to survive.

Holl walked over to the campfire and lightly kicked it, burying the burning embers at the bottom of the pile of wood. Once they were buried a bit, he kicked again, this time at the ground in front of the fire. As he kicked, a small pile of sandy dirt smothered the flames, and all of the fire's light disappeared.

"It'll stay warm for a while. Let's go check downstream first."

Holl motioned for Bindon to take the lead, and the sailor quickly obliged.

The trio quickly made their way back down to the spot where they split up with Cundy earlier in the day, but there was no sign of the man. When they examined the ground, though, they could see a pair of bootprints leading further down alongside the stream. Bindon followed the footsteps carefully until they reached a spot where they paused, then turned directly into the stream.

"Here. He is dead."

"What?!"

Bindon turned to face Roth, his expression stone-cold and detached.

"Just like the boat. He is gone."

Bindon suddenly reached up to his chest, feeling for the small booklet tucked into his jacket. When he touched it, his entire being froze for a moment.

Roth couldn't even see the man's chest moving.

In the corner of his eyes, Roth could see Holl slowly reaching into his coat, while his other hand reached for a dagger holstered in his belt. The captain's hand rested on it but didn't withdraw the weapon.

"They're going to be playing at the mound tonight. We can kill them. They killed Wolf."

A mutter, almost a whisper, escaped from Bindon's still lips, and the next moment, the man seemed to wake up. He pulled his hand away from his chest, his eyes wandering over to where Holl still had a hand on his knife.

"We need to cross the river, but they won't let us anymore. We need to sneak in…"

Bindon's eyes suddenly darted over and focused on Roth. The young man could feel Bindon's piercing gaze focusing in on his neck, and the sailor took a step forward.

"Bindon. Explain yourself."

Holl stepped in between the two men, his fierce gaze making the other sailor straighten up immediately.

"Yes, captain! We need…? This…"

The sailor started to freeze again, but Roth could see him fighting back against himself with all of his effort. A tear gathered at the corner of his eye, and a pained gasp left his mouth.

"What is happening to me… I'm Bindon. Ransom Bindon… Biigw… I'm Biigw."

An unfamiliar word left the sailor's mouth, and he looked continuously more panicked as he kept trying to speak.

"No! I'm not! Gami should've taken me too! Why did she leave me?!"

The random, incomprehensible words spewing from the man's mouth suddenly quieted, and he stared straight into Holl's eyes.

"I'm sorry. Gami couldn't handle everything. If you still need this man, ordering him should work. He spent long enough as a soldier."

Bindon's voice sounded different than normal as he spoke… not exactly feminine, but not his usual whispery tone either.

"I will ask her for a ship. Good luck until then."

"Bindon, what the hell are you saying?"

Roth's hand trembled as he watched his crewmate's rapidly changing expression. Holl's face was dark as he stood in front of Bindon.

The cold look faded away from Bindon's face, but before he could move at all, Holl took a step forward and shouted.

"Bindon! Straighten up, arms at your sides!"

The sailor immediately complied, but Holl somehow looked a bit saddened by his reaction. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath before giving another order to the man.

"Wait here until we return."

When the sailor nodded, Holl grabbed onto Roth's arm and started dragging him away from the side of the stream. The look in Holl's dull eyes somehow looked both saddened and excited.

"Kid, be careful, and tell me if you notice anything else off. Bindon, Cundy, or me. Even yourself. If you notice anything strange, tell me immediately."

"Wha- what's wrong with Bindon?"

Holl's eyes narrowed.

"Something unnatural. Maybe those manidos aren't just stories..."

Holl's gaze wandered to the sheepskin map in Roth's backpack again, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Don't try to touch that booklet."

Turning back around, Holl led Roth back over to where Bindon was waiting, his hand unconsciously reaching up to the captain's badge on his chest.

"Back to the campsite, take the lead."

"Yes, captain!"

The sailor took a few steps back toward their campsite, then paused.

"Captain, we must cross the stream tonight. We can, just after midnight!"

"We will."

"Thank you, Captain!"

Roth let Bindon march a few meters forward before turning to Holl.

"Captain, please tell me what's going on."

The grizzled man let out a long sigh, then urged Roth to start walking.

"I think that book he has… it's probably an Ojibwe creation story."

Roth reluctantly followed after the captain as he continued listening to his explanation.

"Like, the Native tribes living around here? I didn't think they wrote that kind of stuff down."

Holl nodded.

"Yep, it's normally passed on orally. The stuff he's been saying, though, matches up with what I remember. I didn't think much of it when he tossed a branch in earlier, but him talking about a wolf… it sounds like the start of the creation story."