Sometime around midnight, Habrunt began to grow delirious from the fever, and she fell into a kind of stupor, sitting on a woven mat and leaning against his sleeping rack with her head leaning close to his, while the bare skin of her face and exposed extremities basked in the fireside glow.
Habrunt began to moan in his sleep from his intense sufferings, and Si'Wren began to hum a melody, so low and muted as to be inaudible to all but herself and Habrunt, and after a short time he stopped his pitiable lamentations for a little while.
In an exhausted somnambulance, Si'Wren lapsed into her slumbers as well, until his groanings woke her once more. Then she patted his forehead with the tea-soaked rag, and from her heart and soul arose in her throat soft compassionate intonations, so low that only his ears could hear her as she leaned close, hovering over him with tender eyes and a softened look.
Something seemed to be bothering Habrunt in his sleep as he murmured to himself unintelligibly, but although Si'Wren tried her utmost she could not seem to make it out.
In the delirium of a feverish dream, Habrunt heard a voice calling sweetly in the jungle. It was the voice of some incomprehensible vision, a beauty, a paragon of virtue, a woman like unto no other such as he had ever seen in all of his unfathomable years.
He searched for her, sometimes walking, sometimes running a few steps, expecting any moment to break through the dense foliage of the lush greenery and glimpse the unearthly vision of her eternal spirit, ecstatically alive, wild, and free, as the mysterious woman with a voice like an angel roamed the deep jungle, seemingly heedless of it's wild beasts and other horrors, entirely unharmed, and moreover, unaffected, as if it were her rightful kingdom and the savage beasts her royal subjects.
But every time he managed to brush the vines and fern fronds aside with a burly arm to reveal what was beyond with a sweep of his haunted eyes, he saw only a little brown wren bird, singing from a branch across the little thicket-like clearing.
He turned away, and again he heard her, like the calling of a siren, causing the steaming jungle to throb and tremble invisibly with the incredible sweetness and beauty of that trilling, passionately enthralling voice, piercing his soul like a javelin tipped at the point with the sap of some unknown, virulent love concoction.
Madly, he spun around and charged through the vines, their ropes and boughs whipping at his skin as he ignored the pain, calling desperately and chasing with hastened steps towards her swiftly moving shadow which could barely be glimpsed ahead, highlighted against the glimmerings of sunlight that sparkled like the beams of coruscating, living jewels before his eyes.
There she was! All sparkling bright shimmerings of brilliant golden yellow sunlight flashes. Through the mottled and rippled interplay of light and shadow patterns, he saw her silhouette against the sun, a living vision come to life amidst the dank dark kaleidoscope of jungle, blinding his eyes with her beauty!