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

To be perfectly honest, Bronze didn't like the snow. In fact she hated it. The old Bronze did anyways. This one -- well, she couldn't recall. There was a vague sense of discomfort associated with the stuff each time she stepped in a deep patch, but that gross feeling always ebbed away quickly.

I could be. All the trees look the same and I think.. I think I've been wandering around in circles for a while now, maybe forever, so maybe this is my home. How weird is that? And then there's you — where are you from? Are we in the same pack? No, scratch that. You're not familiar and I feel like I'd recognize someone speaking in tongues, especially with the polka-dots; what are you, part deer? It was going to be a very strange conversation. One half being a forgetful and dain-bramaged person and the other being a (currently sober) drug addict.