Tenderly, the Were-King made some effort to reassure the aquatic animal as her head pressed sweetly against his knee. The seal's chirping was far too vocal than he anticipated for an injured animal, only confirming that which he had already become suspicious of. She fell silent, however, at his gentle shushing, only for the man to inform her of his intention to remove that spiked barb from her blubbery flesh. That small bob of understanding only cemented his certainty of just what the seal was and yet, he was hardly perturbed by that at the present moment, not when the animal needed assistance. Softly, Tetradore urged the seal to relax, as impossible as it surely seemed, all things considered. His emerald eyes observed the way her own small hazel gaze squinted shut in clear anticipation of the pain to come. It was inevitable, he supposed, for some sort of tensing. Tetradore hardly hesitated as he reached forward, his hand grasping that barb only to tug swiftly and sharply in a clear effort to remove it entirely in one swift motion. He was hardly surprised by the sound that left her lips at the spear's removal, after all, such a barb was hardly meant to be easily removed. Quite on the contrary, that spear was meant to embed itself within the flesh of its victim, just for the convenience of its user.

The metal clattered on the wooden dock beneath him as Tetradore turned his attention towards the gaping wound left in the wake of the spear's removal. The Were-King reached towards the hem of his own shirt, the cotton the only material present as he peeled it off his form only to ball the cloth and place it firmly against the laceration as she so tried to regain her breath. "Shh....everything will be okay...." He muttered softly as he allowed her those moments to cope with the pain he had surely beset upon her. That softness was altogether a rarity for the man and yet, his heart, it seemed was incapable of providing the wounded seal with that often callous exterior. Softly, Tetradore attempted to console the seal, promising her that the worst was now over and that everything that came after was surely within her capabilities to handle. Such encouragement was, perhaps, unnecessary but sometimes, when the pain overrode all logical thought, it had helped him endure. As much as he would have liked to allow her to simply rest now, it was an impossibility, given the creature's current form. Pulling her through the Ark, though possible as the panther he was, would surely not be pleasant for either of them. No - shifting was surely the only answer. His emerald eyes lingered upon the seal that stared up at him for several long moments before, suddenly, the creature began to change.

Abruptly, Tetradore pulled that bloody shirt from her figure, shifting back just enough to give her room for that very transformation. He knew well just how painful it could be, particularly when the body had already been through its fair share of trauma. He was unsurprised by the female's stillness as she tried to recuperate from that change and yet, what had caught him off guard, was the realization that he knew the woman before him. Though the Were-King was hardly a promiscuous soul in the slightest, even he was not entirely immune to the allure of a woman's form. His vibrant emerald eyes skirted over her figure but briefly before his attention was drawn upwards, watching for a moment as Arya placed her face within her hands. "Arya...?" He inquired softly, altogether astute in his observance of those wounds that still afflicted her. It took her a moment before her gaze slowly turned towards him with a clearly exhausted glance. "Are you okay?" The man continued, even though he knew well the answer. He at least wanted her to take stock of her figure, to inform him if there was more than just the results of that spear's removal. It was a question he never quite received an answer to as Arya suddenly realized her very state of undress, her gaze widening at the awareness of just all of her feminine figure that he could see.

He said little of it, however, as her skin flushed a bright pink, the man merely clearing his throat as Arya quickly attempted to cover herself with....well....herself. The quick movement prompted a yelp from her, the sound alone earned the woman the full extent of his gaze as those tears began to stream down her features. "It's okay, Arya...it's okay." He offered, his hand reaching forward to stroke her cheek in an effort to brush away those very tears. The last thing he anticipated, however, was the sudden swaying of her figure, that subtle movement altogether providing the Alpha all the warning he required as he shifted closer towards him. The soft syllable of his name on her lips was ignored as he reached out to her, pulling the girl in his arms quite in the same moment she began to collapse, leaving her falling against his bare chest. A soft sigh left his lips as he reached for that wadded shirt, only to effortlessly scoop her naked figure into his embrace. She was particularly...light within his arms though he hardly complained as he maneuvered towards the safety of the Ark. "Jackal, I need your help." He commented towards the Were, the Hispanic man altogether quick to jump to his needs. A quick rundown of the medical supplies he required was all that was necessary before the Alpha was left to make his own way upstairs with Arya's barely conscious figure within his arms.

He made his way towards the comforts of his own bedroom, the man all but gentle as he placed her against the soft embrace of his bed's plush comforter. That shirt was pressed back against her side as he waited for that supplies he had requested to come. After all, the last thing he intended was to allow the young woman to die from bleeding out upon his very doorstep. No - frankly, he was...kind of fond of Arya, even though his last evening with her had hardly ended exceptionally well. Still, he liked her well enough and, in turn, he had every intention of saving her.