Everything about this place felt familiar, although whenever she reached backwards into her memory, she grasped only shadow. This was nothing new. Lately... —or had it been much longer than lately?— she felt as if she was constantly chasing after her memory, hunting down recollections of the past. For some reason, it always out ran her. Whenever she felt like she was getting close she would reach out and find that there was nothing there. She would remember and instantly forget. There was only a vague wisp of plaintive confusion. Perplexed, she looked around and wonder where she was, feeling as if she were lost both in the real world and in the darkness behind her eyes. "<b>Have I been here before?</b>" she asked herself, in an expectant, bouncy voice. It was as if she hoped that merely by talking to herself, asking herself, she would stumble upon a memory. But mostly, it was just because she was lonely. She couldn't even remember the last time she had seen a friendly face.
Ozera had clearly fallen into disrepair. Her fur, which had never behaved and would never lay flat, seemed thinner, duller. It appeared to stick up at impossible angles, a haphazard tangle of browns and creams. Patches of it appeared to be missing from her shoulders and along what should have been a thick carpet of mane along the nape of her neck. The old limp still plagued her —although she could not remember where she got it from any more— but it was markedly worse, and she barely put any weight on it. She was just an old bag of bones that hopped through the snowy hills on three legs. Tossing her head about, she began to wander in circles in the afternoon sun, asking herself over and over again, "<b>Have I been here before?</b>" It felt as if she were asking it for the first time every time.
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