Enjolras follows his look. It takes a moment for him to realize what's caught Prouvaire's attention -- he expected to see a cloud, a bird, a beam of light, something indistinguishable from all the rest of the nature around them except that Prouvaire found it somehow fascinating -- but only a moment.

(He too remembers wings, in a distant dream-hazed way, and the certainty of throwing up an arm at just the necessary instant for his own self to land on.)

He says nothing, but he presses Prouvaire's arm briefly against his side.