He wasn’t at Brannock’s Trading Post. He was here.
Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off the spot on the map. It was there, on the
same map—just there. And he refolded the map so it would show the lake
where they were and the trading post at the same time. He used his fingers
to make a divider and measured it straight down, but it didn’t mean
anything.
Then he remembered that the grids stood for five kilometers each, and
when he counted the numbers of grids between the lake and Brannock’s he
came up with about sixteen squares.
“So how far is that?” he said to Derek. “Five times sixteen—maybe
eighty, eighty-five kilometers.”
But that was straight—in a straight line southeast.