Frey shook his head slowly, drops of water falling out of his soaked hair. "You're wrong, Asbel. Many people wouldn't have." He responded before Augustine burst through the darkness and the young prince squinted through the heavy rain. It was then Frey sighed in pure relief. He didn't like his brother, or even love him. However, he was a general and would keep him safe. 

Too tired to pull away from the hug, Frey let his form be held by the eldest prince. The sharp-tongued prince normally would say something could and unyielding, but he had been through enough for one night. His stomach bled and Frey cough wetly once more, but t the side as not to get blood on the general. As Asbelnwas pulled from him, Frey's orange eyes locked onto his brother's.

Why was he so weak, tired, wet and cold? Frey was far from dead, though. 

Not feeling enough energy to form a complete sentence, much less an explanation, Frey fumbled with his sleepwear and pulled up his shirt. On his stomach was a circular puncture wound, caused when Frey had been bitten by his nightmare. Though the cuts on his body came from the forest, this wound most certainly did not. It was throbbing just a bit, and his shirt was drenched in blood. 

"Here..." The prince croaked. He hoped that August would use a phoenix feather or something to help him out.