Chapter 19
I woke later that morning to the woodsy nuts and velvet butter smell of muffins cooking in the oven. The luscious scent filtered through the mesh of my soul, nourishing the flesh and bones of the one known as Isla Kiehl, the one I had been and wished to return to. Through the haze, I felt hands on my skin—supple hands equipped with cooling medicine. There was a trio of voices harmonizing and colliding, making decisions about my tights and sweater and the bandage on my arm. A cold cloth cleaned away smoke, dirt, and grease.
“She needs warm fluids,” said a voice. “If she would only wake up soon.”
“She needs a doctor,” said another voice. “What have they done to her?”
“I’ll put on her dressing gown.” This came from a woman. “Boil water for the tea.”
My mouth and throat were so
