I woke to the smell of cinnamon and vanilla. An old woman hovered above me with a plate of pancakes. Like the others, she had dark hair and eyes, but her features were more human. Her fingers were neatly manicured, and her black hair was smoothed into a neat braid.
“You need to eat,” the older woman said, offering me the plate of food.
Accepting it, I noticed I was no longer lying on blankets. They had been replaced by a small, lumpy mattress with a scratchy, but clean, wool blanket. My clothing was also different. I had been brought here in a pink nightgown, but now, I was dressed in a warm flannel gown and heavy socks.
“Thank you. What can I call you?” I asked, trying to keep the smallest bit of civility from my upbringing.
“I am Livia. You are Blanche. Eat your food while it is warm
