[ The issues predated their new arrivals, to be sure, but the fact that they arrived through the forest, as well as the timing of it... ]

Think I liked the storm better. [ 'said' plainly. There's a flicker of a hazier, harder to grasp thought layered below it, an echoed "Are we who we think we are?" with no distinct voice, lurking, lingering, clinging much like the fog in the south and middle forests as he continues. ] Getting dropped into the ocean? Fine. Straightforward, mostly! Memories, illusions, illness, the rest of what the forest does— a lot more complicated.