okay, so this is an excerpt from a book that i wrote earlier this year. its the second to last chapter...i hope its not too confusing...

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John stuck out the flat edge of his blade. Jasmine tripped over it and fell into the snow. Guessing, she rolled--with force--in one direction. She ran into John's legs and kept rolling. He crashed forward into the blanket of white.

Jasmine got to her feet, but John--still on the ground--cut into her leg. She remained calm, and tried to work around it (unsuccessfully).

John laughed at her efforts as he stood. Mumbling incomprehensibly to himself, he lunged forward, but stopped before he could go more than a foot. An invisibe force knocked Jasmine back against a wall. She hit her head painfully hard and then collapsed in the snow.

This all happened just as Ancion entered the alley. Fueled by anger and fear, he ran up and swung his sword out at John. He easily defended himself. Before either of them could spring another attack, an arrow whizzed by Ancion's ear and lodged into John's shoulder. He hesitated; surprised.

Sensing his distraction, Ancion stabbed him in the stomach. John slid backward off the blade--his blood staining the snow.

Putting down his bow, Joshua helped Keara and Ala gather up the rest of the enemy knights.

Of the original six hundred fifty people that had fought for them, Joshua counted roughly around sixty survivors (with no or minor injuries). Twenty of them took the enemy captives back to camp, while the other forty tended to the wounded.

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Ancion struggled to keep Jasmine in consciousness as another remaining troop made an attempt to stop her bleeding.

Jasmine's eyes were open (though she could not see). She knew who was near her. She knew that they had won. And she knew that she was going to die. She felt the cold, wet snow falling onto her face and cushioning the ground beneath her. She knew that she should feel cold and shivering in the freezing temperatures. But she didn't. For the first time in a long time, she felt relatively relaxed.

Ancion held her head in his hands and whispered to her.

"Give it a rest, Ancion." Jasmine muttered. "There's...Nothing you can do..."

He shook his head--tears welling up in his eyes. "You're not going to die, Jasmine. I promise you; you won't die."

"You know...It's not your promise to make..." she sighed. "And I promise you...That I'll die...And you'll move on in your life..."

Ancion was about to say something, but she stopped him. "You're going...To be a great king, Ancion..." Jasmine slowly lifted her hand and drew something in the snow beside her.

Ancion didn't look at it--he kept his focus on Jasmine as tears cascaded down his cheeks.

"I can't go on without you..." he told her softly--his hand shaking as he brushed a piece of hair away from her face.

"Death...is the end of one person...the living...must go on..." Jasmine smiled lightly in a sad, apologetic manor. She stiffened and closed her eyes--the lines of fear and pain smoothing away.

Ancion held her tightly in his arms. He looked through tears at where her hand lay in the snow--right next to the symbols she had drawn. He understood immediately and a wave of depression enveloped around him. Ancion brought Jasmine's body closer to him still and pressed his forehead to hers as he whispered brokenly what she had written in the snow; "Ninety-two."

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92 is an inside thing that you'd only understand if you read the book...