He saw a warrior raise a bone, grasping it in both hands, and bite deep into the tender flesh that clothed it.
The sight inflamed him into an anger almost uncontrollable.

He clenched his fist and shook it at the warrior, who little suspected the proximity of a hatred so intense.

Then he bent his head down and rushed away among the wet bushes which in rebuke at his lack of caution raked him across the face.
Henry walked despondently back toward the islet in the swamp.

The aspect of air and sky had not changed.

The heavens still dripped icy water, and there was no ray of cheerfulness anywhere.