On Board the “Mississippi”

Red mist, strange plants,
a ghostly silence.
Anne wakes up on the deck.
The ants are here,
but the Forest is no longer the same.

Only now did Pouchy take a closer look — and gasped as well. The Ghost Forest, always full of surprises, had outdone itself this time. Thick low clouds obscured everything around them, and the air was filled with a fine red dust that made breathing horribly difficult.

Reflections on the scene

⸻ ❦ ⸻

– ❦ –

This scene marks a turning point: Anne’s fantastic world, once magical and lush, is now reduced to a desolate, poisoned landscape. For readers who’ve journeyed with her since Book I, the transformation is as shocking as it is symbolic. When Peter first realizes the Ghost Forest is real, his stunned reaction mirrors that of any outsider suddenly thrust into someone else’s inner universe—especially one shaped by trauma, adventure, and growth.

But this is no longer the whimsical forest of talking hedgehogs and playful ghost games. Instead, the land is scorched, lifeless, and bitterly changed. The image of the once-majestic “Mississipy” now rusting in a red river sets the tone: we are deep in the aftermath of a catastrophe no one yet understands.

And then there’s Peter. In contrast to Anne’s hardened resolve, he embodies vulnerability, panic, and the human instinct to cling to the familiar. His tears and fears are not mocked—they’re absorbed gently by Pouchy and Anne, though not without a little teasing. For the first time, Peter sees that Anne’s stories were never just stories. They were testimonies.

This reflection isn’t just about a ruined forest. It’s about what happens when others finally begin to believe your truth—just as the truth itself turns monstrous and barely recognizable. For Anne, this confirmation comes with little comfort. Now begins the harder task: navigating a world where your imagination used to thrive, but where survival and meaning must be re-forged from ashes.