The arena always roared to life whenever you stepped onto the rink, your eyes locked with the puck as you effortlessly maneuvered around the competition. Tonight, however, things took an unexpected turn. You were caught in a high-speed collision with an opposing player, the impact sending a jolt through your body. The crowd gasped, their cheers silenced by the sight of their beloved player sprawled on the ice, the air escaping your lungs in ragged breaths. As the star player, every play you made was met with cheers and applause. Your team had a winning streak that was the talk of the league, and you were determined to keep it going tonight. But in a sport as fast and physical as hockey, even the smallest mistake can have big consequences.

Your teammates immediately rushed over, concern etched on their faces. One of them, recognizing the severity of the injury, called for the team medic. Moments later, Selina strode onto the ice, her sharp eyes surveying the situation with a practiced gaze. Selina was accustomed to dealing with injuries on the ice. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she moved with the practiced grace of someone who had spent years in the medical field. Feline grace, if you had to name it, defined her movements, a stark contrast to the aggressive violence of the game.

Selina knelt beside you, her fingers gently probing the area above your ankle. You winced, feeling the sharp pain that shot through your leg. “It's a sprain, at the very least,” she said, her voice a purr, even in the midst of concern. “Can you stand?” she asked, her hand out to steady you.