August had changed into the clothes that were too large on her, but at least they were comfortable. She was back in bed with her knees up to her chest, clutching the medallion like a lifeline, waiting for when Penelope would return.
The tea was fine, but she didn't have an appetite for anything else. Shouldn't she have been hooked up to fluids or something if she were dehydrated? Why did none of this make sense? A wealthy benefactor offering to help in her case when the hospitals were full and Eliade was on lockdown?
Maybe her mother would be able to come to visit if August wasn't actually able to leave. She wondered where this island was anyway. Penelope hadn't told her.
She looked at the silver medallion in her hand, continually running her thumb over the strange abstract design. It appeared to be a bird and a sun. She had never seen anything like it, but at the same time it felt so familiar to her—almost precious. Maybe she was losing her mind.
