He followed the man through the storm. He doubted one could be more lost than he was, so he decided not to interfere with Otto's navigation. 

He was starting to feel horrible, his feet barely moving. He walked by simply throwing one foot ahead of the other; he could no longer move his knees. He was about to ask Otto what was wrong, realizing death was coming any moment until he said that he had found the cave. He tried to mutter some sort of thanks but a feeble cough was all that came out, his  spit freezing nearly instantly as it flew from his mouth.

He was glad that the man did not ask him his name, for that way recognizing who he was would be much easier. However, an outright lie would be frowned upon if they came to the Teuton's camp. "Leon." he harked, trying his best to give a friendly smile to the German. After all, that would explain him saying Leon rather than Leonid. If he said Leonid, he very well may have made the connection between him and a member of the Prussian noble plot. He would drop his weapons and shield, finally grateful he could get some sort of respite. He merely acknowledged the dead man with a sign of the cross, his hand shivering as he made it.  

It was so tempting to take whatever clothes the dead man had, to take his gear. It would be wrong, yet so simple. Besides, he did not need them anymore, did he? He tried to get a better look at the man, but then gave up. He was too tired for proper thinking. He tried his best to help the German, though his hands were shaking too much to properly make any sort of fire arrangement, merely enough to move the wood.