Being a tree really hadn't been all that bad, he supposed. It was shockingly peaceful. Or, at least, it had been. He still wasn't entirely sure of what had gone on, exactly. All he really knew was that his peaceful quiet existance as a little tree had been more than a little shattered by things that hurt. A lot. And that made him feel very very sick.
It was distressing for a long while, too. Finally, though, the pain had lessened just a little bit, though he still felt horribly sick. The warmth was nice, though. That, he could feel, curled around him, and as it lingered, it started making him feel different.
Slowly but surely, leaves and bark began to fall away and, as they did, Sonic became more and more aware of both his surroundings and of himself. Found himself able to move an arm again, slowly at first, and not without a small amount of pain. It's only as he makes the quietly agonized sound that he realizes he's breathing. Well, with actual lungs instead of leaves now. He hurts. Kind of alot. Kind of a hell of a lot. And he feels like he's going to be violently sick. But that's not something a tree would feel.
Hazy emerald eyes slip open a little bit as he realizes he can again, gaze unfocused, looking blearily up at the ceiling. Oh sweet fate, he feels like hell...