Field Navigation

Stood over the fallen pawn and looked for my next heading. Tucked behind the thick leather spine of an atlas, I found a clean, unfolded paper bookmark stamped with a vintage world map. High-grade parchment. I gripped the corner with both hands, hauled it free from the book gap, and smoothed the creases flat across the wood shelf right next to the matchbox. Laid my brass coin square over the equator to anchor the paper against the draft. With the map deployed and coordinates visible, the field route is laid out clean. Time to chart the route forward.