Dorothy's POV
"Luna, may I speak with you privately?" A female warrior approaches from behind, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I can handle the cleaning. Just show me where everything goes," Adaline offers with eager determination.
"Stay close to Natasha until I return," I instruct her, then face the warrior whose anxiety radiates through her tense posture.
"I apologize, but I don't recall your name," I admit.
"Grace, Luna."
"Follow me, Grace. We need somewhere private to talk."
Her nervousness sends warning signals through my mind. The way she fidgets with her hands and avoids eye contact suggests something serious weighs on her thoughts. My medical instincts kick in, wondering if I missed an injury during earlier examinations.
Inside the small consultation room, I motion toward a chair while taking the seat across from her.
"What's troubling you?" I ask gently.
"I cannot shift," she confesses, her words barely audible as she stares at the floor.
