A frown creased his brow as Galen turned his gaze to Orm. The King had no reason to lie about the woman's race but it was rare to find a Selkie so close to the city. Looking at his patient he silently conceded that if her pelt had been so forcibly taken the person or persons responsible likely would have wanted privacy for the barbaric act. What was more private than a dead zone?

"Can't say that I have ever treated a Selkie for a bruise, much less something of this magnitude," he murmured. Sparing a moment to think about it Galen wasn't sure that he had even crossed paths with one before. The healer did not doubt for a second that there weren't members of the seal folk living in the city, but he had never met one. "I confess that I am at a bit of a loss of how to proceed. I will need to talk with some of my colleagues and see if any of them have encountered one before."

His fingers resumed carefully pulling the fabric away as he spoke. It was essential for him to complete the initial exam. A split second of distracted thought caused him to brush the back of his knuckles against the oversensitive flesh on her side and the woman jolted awake. Her hands closed convulsively at the fabric - cape? - surrounding her as she screamed, a horrific and shrill cry that abruptly faded into soft, pathetic whimpers. She locked eyes with him, panic and fear shining bright before she sank back into oblivion, unconscious once again. Galen stared, waiting for further outbursts, then breathing out a long sigh and glancing towards Orm.

"...she's in trouble," he said in a tone of voice that expressed just how unnecessary he knew the comment to be.