Water and a kind voice

Your wonderment at your apparent continued state of existence is, sadly, interrupted, as you realize that even if you're not actually experiencing ****, you bloody feel like it.

You're running an incredibly high fever, to the point where your skin is actually burning. The heat is concentrated in your face, and most especially your forehead, which is drenched in a thick film of sweat which trickles down your temples. Your throat is raw and painful, and breathing hurts, dragging air back and forth through your tortured windpipe. Speech is a distant aspiration, so you just let out a nondescript grunt, as best you can, and immediately regret it as every nerve in your neck sings with pain.

And your right arm aches terribly, where the spider slashed it open, though the pain seems to be dulled by a distinctive tightness, as if the wound's being held together somehow. Concentrating hard, you feel fabric against your skin. Someone must have bandaged you up!

You open your eyes in an attempt to assess the situation. Strong sunlight seeps into them and you clench them shut as your pounding head rejects the sudden onslaught. When you're able to open them again, your vision is pretty blurry anyway, so it doesn't exactly help.

You feel something pressed against your lips. Something cool and smooth, like the neck of a bottle. In fact, you're pretty sure it is the neck of a bottle. Instinctively, **** for something to soothe your raging throat, you ease your jaw open and feel cool, refreshing liquid trickle into your mouth.

Water.

A vague, dark shape moving above you, and a voice in your ear. It's male, and incredibly calm. "Try to get some more rest. The venom will pass. You're alive."

You decide to take your rescuer's advice.