Clair had passed out shortly after being grabbed by the bird, before he'd even had time to cry out. When he came to, he was somewhere he had no idea but seemed to be...alright, mostly. He was stuck on something sticky, though, and when he tried to move his hind legs not only did he make no progress but also caused shocks of pain to shoot through them, causing him to whimper and go still once again until the pain faded some.
As soon as he'd stopped focusing so much on that, it struck him just how alive everything around him was. Not only was there a good amount of lively noise, most of it coming from below him (with the exception of a large sound like rustling of a lot of twigs and branches sounding like it was coming from almost directly above him), but the sheer amount of life he could see. Not just the number of life forms either. He could see many life forces of animals and insects...and the plants. They're so much brighter than what he's used to seeing, so much more alive, so much more...noisy to his eyes. It makes it harder to process precisely what he's hearing and sensing, even beyond the distracting pain in his legs.
When the fighting had started it had sounded quite blurry to him, but he knew there was something going on as cascades of twigs and leaves occasionally fell on him from above, and he thought he heard shouting, and...did somepony say his name? He sticks his head up and looks as much as he can toward the direction of what's happening. Unfortunately it seems to be taking place behind him, and he tries and fails to turn, rolling and turning his head from side to side to try to get any idea of what's...
He stops and faces forward as...what he would best describe as a large ball of light flies in front of him and starts talking. It's...it's so bright. So alive. So bright that he squints at it, not that it helps. It...no, she. It sounds like a she. She's so bright that she blots out just about all the life around her until she might as well be the only thing there. It's...distracting, to say the least, but...he thinks he understood her.
"I, my l- I think they- my legs- broken, I- I think my legs are broken," he manages, having a hard time forming coherent sentences. "And stu- I'm think- who's look- I can't move. Who's looking for me?"
When the bird breaks free from the ice, it turns back around, screeching angrily at anything and everything in front of it, perched on the edge of its partially-demolished nest. It focuses on the closest target, the blue pony-thing who was charging directly at it. It screeches at him again in particular and flaps its wings, sending great gusts at him to try to hold him down in place, then jumps at him, trying to snatch or tear at him with its talons.