An old man, his face distorted with rage, was looking upon the scene.
His face was distorted with pain, and yet he felt it a strange relief to speak.
His face distorted with pain as he tried to crawl toward the silver door.
He stood up and came over to the desk, his face distorted with anguish.
His face was distorted with terror and something else, some kind of alien presence.
The children started, screamed; their faces were distorted with terror.
The grizzled face of the native was distorted with pain.
His eyes were closed and his face distorted with pain.
His features were distorted with the viciousness that was inside him.
Rufirant's face distorted with rage, but for a moment he did not move.
