MADELINE'S POV

I winced as Freya dabbed the wet antiseptic cloth against the wound on my arm. I could feel Freya's eyes on me, glancing up from time to time to where Louisiana sat at the far end of the camp with someone tending to her wounds.

"You got something on your mind," I asked Freya.

"Beat me, she exhaled. There's something different about Louisiana. What happened between you two?"

"Nothing," I replied her. I didn't want to talk about it or talk about the mission either. "Maybe she's still rattled from the fight," I added.

Freya narrowed her eyes. "You are telling me, that Louisiana is rattled because of...