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“She had long since left the clearing by the time she realized that she did not remember her name. The vale had caught the noonday brightness the way a shell catches iridescence, and its magnesiate flare still bleached her vision. Throughout the day, sunlight fingering through, and across, the tapestry of dappled coolness had made of her a mere element weaving through its loom; girl, shade, light, leaf, girl. The memory of her name must have tumbled down somewhere along this rhythm, like a turned and lost leaf sliding off her shoulder, a fragment of the green, gone, rather than a piece of herself. Or perhaps it wasn't so much that she'd left a name behind, but that she was traveling towards a new one.”