Accidental Surrogate for Alpha
When I place a gentle hand on her arm she leaps a foot into the air, yelping in surprise.
“Ella, you scared me.” She breathes, pressing her hand to her breast.
“I’m sorry.” I profess, giving her an apologetic squeeze. I follow her gaze to a surgeon setting a broken bone, placing the injured arm into a strange machine, which automatically projects a light image of the woman’s skeleton, like a portable x-ray which requires no radiation. As we watch, the machine carefully bends and shifts the limb until the bones are lined up properly, and the shifter only emits a low hiss, making me think it must be a relatively pain-free process. “Admiring the Vanaran technology?” I inquire, feeling amazed my