Attacked? A frown of confusion crossed Asbel's mouth and forehead. Attacked by what? Some demon in a dream? There had been nothing in the tent, nothing chasing the prince. The cuts on the prince's body came from the forest, not from any storm-born monster.

But there would be time for other questions later. For now, the phoenix tried not to remain so tense in Frey's embrace, though the prince's arms felt more and more like bands of steel the longer they sat together. So much sincerity was difficult enough to understand, but the earnest contact was stranger still. Frey was not honest, nor was he affectionate, and Asbel did not return the embrace, even if that would have warmed them further.

And as the prince spoke again, the phoenix averted his gaze, kept his eyes on his hands folded in his lap. "You were afraid," he replied, speaking just as slowly, just as softly. "Anyone would have followed you."

"Frey!" The shout cut through the rattle of rain around them, and Asbel glanced up in time to see Augustine careen out of the darkness and drop to his knees beside them. The elder prince pulled his brother into his arms and held him tight against his chest, and Asbel found himself awkwardly caught in this new embrace as if he, too, were part of the mismatched family.

"What happened? Brother, what happened?" The hug broke, but the general seemed loathe to let go, and he touched Frey's face, checked his cuts for depth and damage, smoothed back the soaked hair from his forehead. He didn't seem to care that the two enemies were seated together, one's arms around the other. That they were alive, blessedly alive, was enough. "Are you alright? Is anything broken?"

Cassius dropped down to gently peel Asbel out of Frey's arms, and the phoenix felt so limp and exhausted after so long a scramble through the woods that he did not struggle, and he allowed himself to be picked up as if he weighed no more than a child.