Gerard shook off the jinxes with a growl, then yanked his leg free of the encroaching shrubbery, vaguely aware that his already injured leg was now scratched raw, bleeding freely in the cold air. But by this point the pain just maddened him further. Traps. Wizards and their insidious magic, with their traps. Never again, never again, because Gerard was free, and fuck all this magic clouding his senses. He could sense it, an obscuring blur over his sight and snout, but he didn't have to stand for that. He bared his teeth with a hiss and then crouched, and gathered an armful of muddy snow, flinging it out across the clearing.
Hah, there! A patch where the mud and ice clung, and Gerard fucking had them now. Except the human in the tree was shouting -- they were planning something, and someone else was lurking in the trees. Gerard's senses had gone haywire, but he could tell that much.
Outnumbered, but if Gerard was going down, he was taking one of these fucking wizards with him.