Signpost (3)
As Mi spent more and more time sleeping among the flowers, subtle changes began to occur in the forest. During another walk along the river, Mi discovered a peculiar place—a small patch shrouded in mist, as if the thick fog from the opposite bank had seeped in. This small area corresponded to the south, where morning glories bloomed, and Mi named it "North of the Mist." When Mi first discovered North of the Mist, she was startled and quietly observed it for a long time, separated by two giant trees in the thick fog.
Mi looked up. On the opposite bank of the river was a vast expanse of thick fog, so dense she couldn't see anything. She assumed the fog from the other side had seeped in through the river. She didn't know what the fog would bring, or if it would continue to expand.
Ever since the thick fog blanketed the forest, Mi had been circling around this area, studying it. She started by cautiously observing from a distance, but then realized that the fog almost always occupied that small patch. Mi drew closer and closer to the fog, thoroughly examining the surrounding cover, trying to find any gaps that allowed the fog from the other side of the river to seep in. Unable to find any openings, Mi could only circle this small patch of fog, where everything was a blur and she couldn't see anything clearly.
Mi tried to put a small number of ink droplets into the fog, but she found that the droplets seemed to have lost their connection. After several attempts, Mi lost some of her ink droplets. She no longer dared to send her army of ink droplets into the thick fog, which would devour her ink droplets. She was afraid that in the end she would disappear entirely into the fog and become a wisp of transparent air again.
Mi dragged the ink droplets across the entire forest again, but found nothing—not even a pebble, not even a fallen leaf. She turned her gaze back to the thick fog and asked El, "Can you see anything different?"
Al and Joe were led by Mi to the edge of the thick fog. "There's nothing here," Al shook her head, even crouching down to stroke the green lawn. Mi crouched down as well, and blades of grass immediately climbed up Mi's arm, as if Mi were wearing a green coat.
Mi stared at Al and Joe: "Can't you see the fog?" Al and Joe shook their heads. They couldn't see anything, and they couldn't offer any helpful advice.
Mi looked at the fog in front of her, which neither El nor Joe could see. She turned around, stood up, pointed to the river, and asked, "Can you see that river?"
"That is the River of the Lost."
“You see beyond the river—” Mi suddenly paused, then changed her question: “What’s beyond the river?”
"That's the Misty Forest."
"Is it filled with mist?" Mi stared into El's eyes, which contained the entire forest. The tall trees were reflected in her eyes, and El couldn't see any mist at all; all she could see was a green world.
“It’s a boundless forest, with more trees and flowers than the Witch Forest, and all sorts of animals.” Elton paused, then changed her words: “It’s a living world.”
"Is this place—the Witch Forest—a dead world?" Mi still couldn't understand what form she was in here; perhaps she was no longer human.
“No, this is a static world; time does not pass here.” El thought for a moment and said, “You may feel that you have been here for a very long time, but in fact, nothing has changed.”
“There is no passage of time.” Mi repeated the sentence. Above the River of Lostness, night and day intertwined; there was nothing in the Witch Forest, and she even felt that an incandescent light bulb seemed to hang above the Witch Forest, emitting an eternal light.
Unable to get any help from El and Joe, Mi carefully studied this peculiar place. It was the only place in the entire Witch Forest where nothing could be seen clearly, like a forest on a rainy day, like a misty morning. You could vaguely see the shadows of trees outside the thick fog, and if you got close, you could touch the mottled bark of the trees, but if you went far away, you couldn't see anything at all.
North of the Mist is a special place, the only place in the entire forest where fog lingers. Mi reverted to human form, meticulously assembling herself to ensure not a single drop of ink was spilled, before carefully stepping into the mist. This time, Mi found that she was still herself; she had simply entered a place filled with fog, like an autumn morning when thick fog obscured all vision, leaving only a vast expanse of white.
Ever since entering the dense fog, Mi had frequently gotten lost. The fog seemed endless, which terrified her; it felt as if it were swallowing her whole. Mi started running, trying to escape the fog, when she kicked a sharp rock. The first time she felt pain from kicking the rock, Mi was so frightened that she immediately darted out of the fog. Lifting her foot, the skin composed of ink droplets was still smooth and round, but the pain in her toe was a stark reminder that this fog was different from anywhere else.
Mi entered the mist again and again, carefully touching the small, spiked stone each time. Finally, Mi discovered that no matter how many times she touched it in the mist, the stone was always the same—just one protruding rock from the grass. The mist, which looked small from the outside, allowed Mi to wander for a very long time inside, until she kicked the small stone. The stone seemed to never move, no matter which direction Mi entered from or how she kicked it. Mi's heart began to pound; she could feel her own heartbeat.
Mi, who had the entire forest imprinted in her heart, wandered almost constantly in the mist. She silently counted her steps, knowing that on the nineteenth step she would definitely kick the sharp-edged stone. No matter how she turned, no matter what angle she entered the mist from, she was certain she would kick the stone on the nineteenth step. The first time she kicked the stone, Mi lifted her foot in surprise. She thought she had finally grown a body and regained the feeling of pain. But when she came out, she realized she was still a blob of ink, only now a small stone in the mist gave her the sensation of pain and touch.
Mi began frequently passing by, kicking a sharp-edged stone to remind her of her newfound sense of self—she was no longer just a blob of ink, no longer solely visual; she had gained more senses. This misty fog gave her a more pronounced sensation than the dormant flower—pain. Each sharp pain in her toe made Mi acutely aware that she was still alive. She began to revel in this feeling, and for a fleeting moment, she felt she was self-harming. Suddenly, she understood those who self-harmed; only intense and real pain could make them feel alive, a feeling that brought her a strange joy and excitement.
Mi dared not release any more ink drops alone, because she discovered that the ink drops swallowed by the mist never returned to her side. She also wanted to take the small stone out, but Mi had no hands and could not remove the stone.
No matter which direction Mi enters the fog from, she will always kick this sharp little stone after nineteen steps. Sometimes Mi will stop after eighteen steps, turn around and leave the fog, but the first step she takes after turning around will kick this stone with small spikes again. The stone appears like a ghost, always at the nineteenth step, no more, no less, no earlier, no later.
Al and Joe would watch from the sidelines, and the new witch seemed to have found a new game. She felt there was a fog there, and she kept going around in circles in that area, just as she had been constantly crashing into the protective netting before.
“She’s so patient.” Qiao watched Mi walk back and forth over and over again. “Sometimes I think she’s a little kid, but no kid has her patience and persistence.”
“No wonder she said she’d searched the whole forest,” El said, looking at the stubborn figure. “She can keep pondering and pondering in one place.”
Mi finally stopped and looked at Al and Joe, who were commenting on her. Eventually, she walked towards them, pointing to the spot where she had been lingering. "There's a fog over there," she said, "and inside that fog is a small, sharp stone that keeps bothering me. Could it be a guiding stone?" Mi tried to describe her feelings. "Every time I get close to that stone, my heart races, thump, thump, like it's going to jump out of my chest." Mi clutched her chest; there was nothing there.
“If that were your guiding light, you would pick it up.” El stared at the grass in front of her. She saw that Mi had been lingering there for a long time, but the place Mi was talking about was just a small lawn in El’s eyes. Mi sighed helplessly. It seemed that she could only develop this map on her own. Mi headed north into the mist again.
"Can she pick up the signpost?" Joe asked, watching the figure that seemed to be spinning in place the whole time.
“I don’t know.” El looked at Mi as well. Among witches of El’s time, or even earlier, the guiding stone always appeared alongside them. Only thirteen elders in the entire Witch Forest didn’t have guiding stones. No witch could say when these elders entered the Witch Forest, nor did they want to leave. Sometimes they would help care for new witches like nannies; El had received care from the elders, as had Joe.
The elders were unwilling to leave; they were content with the signpost never appearing. This new witch was different. She was always thinking about leaving. She had almost no curiosity about how to become a witch, or rather, the elders' stories held less appeal for her than the prospect of becoming a witch.
"Huh—what is she doing?" Joe's eyes widened in surprise again; that little ink figure always surprised her.
Mi repeatedly weaved through the mist. The little ink figure crouched down, groped her way across the grass, and then retreated. El and Joe watched as the ink figure stood up, stretching out her arms and legs. She grew arms and hands, then legs and feet. Then she lay down, rubbing her hands together in front of her, kicking her feet back and forth. Suddenly, she pulled one foot back and rolled away. The ink figure stood up again. This time, she swung her arms, crouched down, covered her feet with her hands, and slowly moved forward like a little frog—one step, two steps, three steps… nineteen steps. The ink figure groped under her feet, and then her figure became clearer, no longer a blob of ink that seemed ready to dissipate at any moment.
Al stood up; the nascent witch was glowing. She and Joe exchanged a glance: "She's found her guiding stone."
Mi crouched down, feeling the stinging sensation with her fingers. Her fingers traced the sharp spikes downwards, leading to a smooth, round stone wall, and below that, soft green grass. A small, round, teardrop-shaped stone, with a round body and a tiny pointed tip, was traced by Mi over and over again before she finally grabbed it.
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