personally, I would've configured them thusly:

He wishes they weren’t all focused on protecting him above all else, wishes they could spare even a tiny bit of that worry for themselves, because the weight of the creature’s gaze is heavy on their backs. The threat of its presence sits around their throats like a noose.

The feeling of being hunted again is overwhelming, making Wild’s skin itch, but this time it’s worse but he can’t do anything to help. What comfort he got in the cabin from his brothers’ presence is lost with the realisation that he is the one they have to worry about now.

The cold is already seeping into his bones and making his head feel thick, sapping away what little warmth he had regained and leaving him clinging to Twilight desperately. His snowquill headdress and trousers are doing the best they can to protect him from the bitter winds, but it’s clear that despite all the layers he’s wrapped in, his body is still fighting a losing battle.

“Hey, you okay, cub?” Twilight murmurs, shifting slightly and jostling Wild’s head from its comfy resting spot on his shoulder. Warm breath curls against Wild’s scalp, giving a brief reprieve from the endless cold consuming him.

Wild blinks slowly and, as the world around him comes back into focus, frowns. At some point during his pathetic shuffling, he had practically attached himself to Twilight’s side with his head tucked under his chin. The light fog still swirling around their legs feels like it has sunk into his skull, cluttering his thoughts and making everything feel slow and sluggish and exhausting to sort through.

“Cub?” Twilight tries again, and the amount of worry packed into a single nickname hurts to hear.

“Cold.” Wild whines out through chattering teeth. The heat of Twilight’s body against his cheek almost burns his skin but he can’t help but try to press closer, desperate for even just a miniscule bit of warmth.

Like this, he completely gets how the creature feels. How can he not? The cold is everywhere, ever-present, and nothing he can do will ever make him feel warm again. Twilight had barely been able to walk or think either, so at least Wild doesn’t need to feel that bad about clinging to him like the world’s most pathetic baby deer.

Twilight sighs and the simple feeling of his breath against Wild’s temple sears him all the way down to the bone. “I know, cub, I’m sorry but we can’t stop.”

No shit. Still tucked against his neck, Wild lets out a noise he hopes Twilight translates as you better fucking not because I will kill you if that thing doesn’t or something along those lines. Because he will, Twilight, don’t test him.

Clearly Twilight managed to understand at least part of the message because he smothers a chuckle into Wild’s hair. “You just hang on, okay? I’ve got you.”

“Is th-this what it w-was like?”

The question is out before Wild even realises he asked it, but he can’t take it back now, nor does he want to. After spending so much of the night in a constant state of fear as he watched the cold pull Twilight further and further away no matter what he did, he hadn’t really had the time to think about how terrifying everything must have been on Twilight’s end.

Unlike Wild, all Twilight had been able to do was shuffle through the snow while his body and mind slowly shut down. The knowledge that Wild could have died at any second and he couldn’t do a single thing to stop it must’ve been absolute torture.

And now it’s Wild’s turn to face that torture. Now it’s his turn to struggle to put one foot in front of the other all while dread sits in his gut like a stone, completely useless to protect anyone from the creature, including himself. He hates it.