[ Claude's dimly aware of something Sylvain says as he's busy looking off to their side to that grove of trees and trying to decide if he imagined what was there, and the lack of focus means when he hears Hilda's voice he snaps back to look forward just in time for Sylvain to pitch forward. Grabbing onto the other man's shoulders really won't assist anything but it's what his mind numbed by the cold, injuries, everything decides would be the most help. ]

You alright?

[ To Sylvain first, though before Petra helps him up Claude wriggles himself free to fall back into the snow. Temporarily, since he should probably stand up to get moving, or something, wherever his deeply faulty logic is going with this, and he holds a bandaged hand out to Hilda for a pull as he gets back up before the snow already adds to the general frigidity cloaking them. ]

Careful in comparing it too much to Faerghus as you'll make him cranky or go on about how great snow actually is. Or both.

[ Claude means this to tease like any of those other Faerghan jokes he's made many a time himself with zero regrets attached, but the tone of it's overall lost in that his voice is barely more than a harsh rasp after the chill aggravated his coughing yet again. Now that he's upright he finds he has to lean on Sylvain again anyway - making his whole no longer needing (in his mind) to be carried thing pointless - but the smile he gives both Hilda and Petra is entirely genuine. ]

You have no idea how good it is to see you both, even with the tundra.