Anduin watches as he pulls the damp clothing off, understanding that he is probably seeking to dry it but being firstly very conscious that they are in the middle of the forest and this is putting Wrathion in a precariously vulnerable situation, and secondly... How much colder this will make him before he finally gets the chance to warm up.

Doing his best not to hover, he casts around warily for any sign of the undead lord's creatures, or their fellow travelers, or even more of the siren perhaps. The forest remains silent and cold around them, however. A welcome sign.

He turns back to Wrathion as he begins to dig around in the clothing, wishing he had a spell that might help. He's pretty sure Wrathion's not injured, or even frostbitten just yet, and the Light isn't exactly designed with warmth as the primary goal.

"Here," he says, gently, "let me?" He bends to lend his own assistance, unwrapping Wrathion's jacket from the bundle and unfolding his shirt from the mix. He can do this at least. Re-dressing on his own might be challenging if Wrathion's fingers are cold enough to have lost sensation. That is, assuming he'll let him assist in such a way. He is very proud, even with only Anduin as a witness to such a weakness or a need.