Sounded about right. He didn't feel far from that himself. Not to mention his own wounds didn't magically heal, and the sutures in his arm itched like mad. And weren't helped by the insect bites. He was crawling in his own skin. His gaze returned to her when she admitted her heart had actually stopped, but he didn't voice his reaction just yet. She was standing here, afterall. It obviously hadn't been permanent. 
"No." He answered vaguely again in response to both of her questions. "I slept a few hours here." 
He turned to settle his stick against a tree, mumbling something that could have been '[i]fucking insects[/i]' as he moved to a rock and sat. He braced his elbows on his thighs, his sleeve stiff with dried blood.

"You died." He said, though it wasn't a question. "I thought there was an agreement not to do that."