The first thing that hit his ears as he slowly rose to consciousness was what sounded like boiling water from not far away.  And then it was the sound of birds chirping, and of leaves rustling, and he began to feel the warmth of the sun no his skin and smell the faint odor of...something...well, something that smelled absolutely delicious to someone who hadn't eaten in days.

Next came the realization that he was laying on something warm and soft, that what had at first seemed like rough, jagged stones or sticks underneath him was simply the sensation of a mattress pressing against the fresh wounds on his back.  He gave a soft, uncomfortable grunt as he shifted gently on the bed, his breath drawing in a gentle, uneasy gasp as each movement seemed to burn for an instant before settling back down to a more managable level.  Everything came slowly, as if still in a haze, and after another moment, as he did his best to rest for a moment before moving again, to catch his breath, he heard a soft, lilting sound coming from not far away, a gentle humming that came from a breathy, woman's voice.

He allowed himself a moment to listen to the soft vocals before he turned his head, his one brown eye creeping open to glance around dazedly at his surroundings, finding himself in what looked like a small grass hut.  It was...while not hyper-advanced the way Zanarkand had been, nowhere near the level of primitive he'd grown up with in Spira, and seemed a strange, yet altogether interesting hybrid of the two.  He spied a pot boiling over a fire in what must have been a kitchen area, and near the far window, with her back facing him, was the same tall, dark-skinned woman who'd found him in the forest.  There was no denying that the feminine voice belonged to her: there was no one else in the room, and there could be no mistaking that figure for a man's.  She was dressed in garb that - in his youth - would have made the Monk turn bright red in a varying mixture of shock and horror, embarassment and disgust.  Now, though, he barely seemed to notice just how little she seemed to be wearing, and instead shifted on the bed again, trying to push himself up into a sitting position as he opened his mouth to speak.

The sound he gave her was a softly croaked, raspy sound, and he silently cursed himself for his own weakness, trying to gather the breath to try once more.  It seemed, though, that just that small sound was enough to draw her attention, and she turned, surprise on her features as she saw him fully awake and trying to move.  She padded over, the sound of heels clicking on wood drumming a staccato beat on the floor as she approached him.  She reached out her hands to him, shushing him in a somewhat familiar sound as she tried to push him back down, a hand resting gently on his chest, and he looked down to see bandages wrapped completely around his torso, his robe and vest laid at the foot of the bed.

You shouldn't be standing, you're still not well.  Just lie back down, everything's going to be alright."  Her voice had a strange accent to his ears, and when he looked back up to her in slight curiosity, what he found was a little surprising.  What had first appeared to be crests of hair atop her head now seemed to be long, softly-furred ears sticking straight up, pointed forward as if she were listening to him, all of her attention on the man she'd saved from the forest.  He hesitated in confusion for a moment, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the things he saw, but found that all he could think of was the daze he'd found himself in when passing through the Jungle, and that it must not have faded quiet yet.

"I...need a Summoner.  Please."  He whispered gently, forcing the words from vocal chords that had trouble forming proper sounds.  She tilted her head at him curiously, as if she didn't understand him, those long, white ears twisting one way and then the other before tilting back in his direction.  For a moment, he found it strangely fascinating to watch.

"I don't understand.  What do you mean, a "Summoner"?"  Even with the hand she used to try and hold him down, he made an effort to sit up, bringing a hand to his forehead as he tried to think, a soft moan escaping his lips without his consent.  

"I...I need a Sending.  Please...I don't belong here.  I'm meant for the Farplane..." he whispered it almost more softly then before, realizing the weight of the words as they would sound to someone who didn't know him, afraid of causing fear in his rescuer.  She simply furrowed her own brow, however, tilting her head the other way, and reached a hand up to gently press against his forehead, as if checking for a fever.  

"Whether you belong here or not is not the question.  The..."Farplane" can wait.  You're not well enough to travel just yet."  He blinked at her in slight confusion, shaking his head gently as he realized there seemed to be a strange breakdown of communication.

"No, I...do you not understand what I mean...?  I...don't need to travel anywhere...the Farplane - ...I..."  He found himself almost at a loss for words, afraid to continue for frightening the young woman, not wanting to cause her to fear an attack from an Unsent who was close to succumbing to the pain of it's own death and giving in to the most basic instincts of a fiend.  She simply clucked her tongue, though, shaking her head and brushing his hair back, an almost amusingly comforting gesture, and turned to walk towards a small bowl filled with water, taking a cloth from the table and wetting it before bringing it back to place against his forehead.

"Don't worry about all of that right now.  You're still delirious from the Vision Dust.  Just rest for a while, I'll have something for you to eat soon, that should help."  Despite himself, he felt his body sinking back into the mattress as she turned to walk back to the boiling pot, the blankets on the bed shifting on top of him as he unconsciously reached back to pull them up, watching her as she stirred whatever it was that smelled so good.  He...he had to admit...he was so hungry.  Unsent or not, in a human form, he still needed food, and it had been so long since he'd had anything at all.  He'd gone days since finding himself in the living world without a bite to eat, unable to succumb to starvation, and desperately wanting something to asuage the hunger.  Maybe...maybe it wouldn't hurt.  Just once.  He could have just a little before he asked for the Summoner again.  Food sounded so good.

It wasn't long before the thought of a decent meal and the sound of her soft humming, the soft chirping of the birds outside the window, lulled him back into an easy, half-sleep, curled up on the bed she'd laid him out on to heal.  He just needed a little rest, that was all.  And then everything would be more clear.  He just knew it.