In a quiet forest, two companions learned a rule: never build the whole map at once. They watched the edges of the traveler’s view—where curiosity ends, and nothing has to exist yet.
When the traveler moved, only the nearby paths became real in the cabin’s room. Everything outside stayed as quiet records—stored, but not rendered.
Effects were not drawn like decoration. Instead, small events happened only at contact: sparks when something reached the surface, ripples when the threshold was crossed.
When a path went out of sight, it didn’t get deleted and rebuilt. The same tools were reused—adapted to the next visible boundary—so the forest could move smoothly without running out of breath.