As he passes by, Alistair catches Cullen's elbow, briefly: just long enough for a quick squeeze. Hopefully, he thinks, he doesn't look as concerned as he feels.

(Considering Alistair's total lack of a poker face, it seems unlikely.)

When he reaches his horse, he takes a moment to rub its nose, clucking his tongue in a soft greeting. The horse sneezes in reply. "All right, yes, good morning to you too," laughs Alistair, and hoists himself into the saddle.