Dr. Ellison never appears before me again.

My new doctor is an older woman who smells like a mix of raw meat and chocolate chip cookies. Like a bunny-slaughtering, chubby grandma. It''s an odd mix that makes my nose wrinkle a little.

"Good morning, Miss Grey," she greets me, her voice gentle and sweet, belying her stocky frame. It only adds to the Disney grandma effect, still with a side of vicious killer. "I''m Dr. Annise Beaumont, and I''ll be taking over your care from now on."

She moves closer, and I flinch without thinking, tensing at her approach.

The rational part of my mind knows she''s here to help, but after the disastrous encounter with Dr. Ellison, I can''t shake the sense of unease that settles in the pit of my stomach. I don''t want to be touched by people who hate me.

Dr. Beaumont seems to notice my apprehension, knitting her brows together as she watches me. "I''ve heard of your issues with Dr. Ellison. He''s well known to be a bit of a problem child. Too big for his britches after heading off to university.

No need to worry, dear. I don''t care what pack you''re from. I''m just going to check your vitals and take a look at those wounds, make sure everything is healing properly."

Of course. All important things a normal doctor would do.

I force myself to relax a little beneath her ministrations. She leans over with another whiff of bloody cookie grandma scent, her fingers surprisingly deft as they press against my wrist to check for my pulse.

Her gentle, almost maternal touch is unfamiliar to me.@@@@

"Your heart rate is a little elevated," she murmurs, more to herself than to me. "But that''s to be expected, given the circumstances."

She peruses the monitor beside my bed, clucking her tongue at my blood pressure. "That should go up with some medication changes," she says, before launching into a casual story about how her daughter had spent a day in the hospital the other day because of a grandchild—a toddler?—who''d been ill from some sort of tummy bug, horrifying all the shifter parents at daycare.

We''re going to keep your antibiotics through IV for now, but you''ll be able to go home on the pill form. Do you have any questions?"

I shake my head, flummoxed by her no-nonsense summarization of my care.

"Okay. If you need anything, your call light is... Not here. Hmm." Dr. Beaumont takes a moment to check around my bed, picking it up from behind it somewhere on the floor. "Here. Nurses are around all day and night, as I''m sure you''re aware.

If you have any more questions, let them know, and I or my colleagues can come chat with you, okay?"

"Yes ma''am," I murmur, as she fluffs a pillow behind my head before patting my knee.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I''m going to put in an order for a clear liquid diet. So, jello, broth, apple juice—You can place an order at dinner through the phone, which is... Also not here. Damn it." Irritation flickers across that matronly face, and I can see a hint of the wolf beneath.

"They should have had this room prepped as if you were already conscious. My apologies, Miss Grey. Here''s your phone, and again, let us know if you need anything at all. Ah." She snaps her fingers. "Make sure to get up and moving if you can. It helps with healing, and if you can get out of bed, we can get you off the catheter."

Catheter?

I blink and lift the blanket, peering between my legs. Yep.

Not sure how I managed to miss that.

Huh. No wonder I didn''t feel full to bursting the moment I woke up.

Dr. Beaumont is gone by the time I look back up, and a nurse peeks her head in the door. She looks frazzled. "Hi, Miss Grey? You have a visitor."