Blackfeather Woods He thrusts his fists against the posts

Teeth tore away at Whip's face as he tried for naught to get his jaws around the woman's neck. He was disfigured, horribly, though it hardly shook his stoney resolve. No -- it strengthened him. He fought through the pain and found his center in it. It was a resourse to be used; to be spent. Pain begat anger, and anger begat hate. And though hatred, Whip's victory was assured. Through the power of hatred, Whip's chains were forever broken.

Though she took his ear from him, Whip was determined to take more. He remained fixed on her windpipe as he waited for the prime opportunity to crush it between his teeth. In the meantime, Whip snarled and gnashed at whatever he could with rabid intensity in the hope that he could somehow bait the woman into exposing her throat to him.