Golden Glade It's been established that time is not a rigid construct.

Try as she might, Bronze couldn't remember enough.
She knew her name — that was a good sign. She knew that there had been something before, but couldn't recall specifics. There was no pain so any injury she had sustained must have healed (or been nominal at best). The girl sat in thought for a handful of minutes before she heard the crunching of snow-under-paw and whipped her attention to the shadows around her.

And just like that, all her worries evaporated.

The stranger was odd, but seemed eager to be close to Bronze. They were out of breath (she could see dissipating clouds of air spreading from around their face) and after a pause, advanced and called out. The words overflowing from the stranger's mouth made Bronze a little nervous; she didn't recognize them and yet, not being able to recognize much, she felt like maybe she should recognize them.

One of us must be a foreigner to this place, because I have no idea what the hell you just said. I mean, what kind of language was that? Am I speaking it? Do I sound like what you sound like? I hope not — I mean, no offense. Once her tangent came near its finale Bronze seemed to wisen up to her own tongue's wandering nature.