Galen sat up and looked at the pony's wound.
"Sorry, I don't have any bacta gel with me. And healing isn't exactly my calling in life. I can take a shot at it, but someone else might be a better choice." He glanced over at EMily.
"Well, that's nothing to be sad or ashamed about. Would you really want to be a borderline psychotic, or the discarded pawn of a Sith Lord, or even the victim of demonic possession?"