Oh, and this was what he wanted. Just this, just running, simple and plain, beneath the light of the moon. His terrible human feet were being cut by the icy crust on the snow, but Gerard didn't mind the pain, not now, not when the man in front of him was panting and terrified and slow, so slow. Gerard was gaining on him, it wouldn't be long now. Except ow bloody buggering ow, the pain was actually starting to intrude on his consciousness, and to top it off, he was leaving a trail of bloody footprints in the snow behind them. Hell. Humans were so fucking weak -- this body was wearing on his nerves.
But humans had magic, and he was a human, sort of. There had to be something useful he could do with the bloody stuff. Humans wore things on their feet, and surely his own human self owned a pair of -- of boots? Right, a pair of boots that could be worn, and Gerard could just will them here...
Motherfucker, that had hurt. Gerard rubbed his head and glared around himself, but it was just the boots, lying innocently in the snow. Bastards. He tugged them on grudgingly -- he didn't like it, not being able to feel the ground beneath his paws, but he liked even less losing feeling in his legs and leaving a trail for all and sundry to follow -- and hell, if he'd lost his quarry because of this damned human frailty, he was going to rip his own face to shreds. Fucking human host, with it's limitations, with it's weaknesses, infecting him like this.
And oh, lovely, while he'd been busy, the prey taken the time to get itself nicely ensconced up in the branches of a tree. Gerard put his hands on his hips and glared up at it. Shit. Well, he supposed he could climb up after it, but he wasn't terribly confident with this body yet. Fuck. Maybe if he burned it down? But that seemed so unsatisfying. It lacked intimacy. Hm.