*Isla*
Poppy gently washes me down the best she can while I sit in my bed, my head still swimming. Mystica is here, too, but she’s not washing my body. She’s checking my vitals and insisting that I try to swallow down some broth, saying, “You’ll feel better once you have some food in your stomach. It’ll help dilute the wolfsbane.”
Maybe she is right, but I can’t seem to choke it down. I don’t know how long I was lying there without breathing, but it seems like it must’ve been a while. It’s like my body forgot how to do it, and now, with every breath I suck in, my lungs almost refuse to do anything with the oxygen, just letting it sit there and build, and build, and build until I feel like I might burst.
When Poppy is finished with all of her washing, she helps me into a nightgown. Mysti
