The road appears ordinary on maps.

It runs through a wooded corridor once used as an 18th-century military staging area. No markers identify it as significant. No signage warns of danger. It is not remote.

Drivers who pass through it report the same detail: the drive feels shorter than it should.

Arrival times vary. Watches disagree with phones. Sun position appears inconsistent with expected duration. None of the individuals I spoke with reported panic.

That absence is notable.

In historical accounts of the area, the dominant experience was not battle — it was waiting. Soldiers encamped for weeks. Illness spread. Supplies ran low. Decisions were delayed.

The land remembers duration, not action.

No one I interviewed believed they lost time. They believed time behaved incorrectly.

I drove the road myself. Twice.

The second drive took four minutes longer than the first.

I did not stop.