The Sentinels some used your na[m]e for glory, some used it for their gain

his jaws, they closed around her throat; a haze of red fell over lasher's vision as he began to throttle her, paws seeking to grip the soft loam as she writhed and bucked within his grasp. the woman did not attempt to fight, and the fact she tried again to reach his little witch enraged lasher beyond measure; horror that deirdre had not moved to run away gripped him. had he been too late?

using the greater part of his strength, taltos sought to wrench her off the clutching thorns, taking a deep and black delight in the audible tearing of fur and of flesh. her head he would thrust violently against the nearest tree he could reach; blood churned the soft dirt beneath his paws into mud, and he slipped against her, but his onslaught continued.

his grip grew ever tighter; fantasies of the death she would reach danced before his eyes -- a suffocation, then he would dash her maddened brains over the earth of donnelaith!