The world stirred for Jarod, and his eyes opened as he woke. He was flat on his belly, a reminder once more that he wasn't doing errands for his family anymore transferring items back and forth for a small profit. He had blessedly remained unconscious pretty much the entire time after his lashing, only the lingering phantom pains remaining. His back didn't feel hot or cold, both you're known to feel from a bad wound or pain, not even a stinging, although that didn't prevent the soreness from the rest of his body, nor the more sensitive nature of the recently knitted flesh.<br/><br/>Jarod pushed himself to a sitting position giving a soft groan, ran his tongue over his teeth confirming it was still there, and his hands looked untouched. Thank small miracles. The soft voices of two females near him got his attention as Kali and a redhead were talking. Neither of them appeared to be hostile, and were far better company than anyone else at this moment. After the experience with pain he wasn't ready to make any new friends, but he certainly wouldn't lash out at a helping hand. Someone had to have pulled him down below away from the eyes and ears of most everyone, he remembered his hands bound and unable to escape, no question the captain and the whipper wouldn't have did squat for him, or the other two who also seemed to fare just as badly.<br/><br/>Turning he looked and saw that there were traces of blood on their backs, but they were smooth and clean of any serious blemishes, not really hinting to what happened likely less than an hour or two ago. Someone had healed them. Jarod likely could have healed himself or someone else, but he couldn't do it much, thankfully he was saved from that task.<br/><br/>Jarod leaned himself against something nearby, could have been a pillar, or a barrel, or the wall, something that he didn't have to worry about someone sneaking behind him as well as rest himself while his body tried to come back out of the shock he knew he was in.<br/><br/>"Did you heal us?" He desperately hoped it was yes, that she was someone maybe he could trust, so far his other comrades who were strangers were the closest things he had to friends here, and that was mostly because they all woke up together in the same situation.<br/><br/>"How long... is this voyage going to be?" He raised his hand to his head rubbing his temples, the headache just behind his eyes definitely there. If this lasted for a month or longer he wasn't going to survive, not unless he could find some good hiding places, that and a good supply of food.<br/><br/>He wanted to play his violin, to nap, snack on freshly made banana bread, smoke on his pipe, then drink a freshly opened bottle of raspberry wine while hearing the neighbors talk of their newest grandson and how he wanted to be a carpenter when he grew up. Sandara's pipe looked about as appealing as anything, anything to distract him and ease his discomfort; But he wasn't sour or desperate enough to ask or demand it, not yet. He could carve figurines, well a pipe was a figure, he'd make his own later if he could find an appropriate tool.