All right, I know I'm edging up on spam, but I'm friends with the moderator so that's OK. 
Right Larry!
This story is told from the view of 'Merrick', a half-elven man. This is the first and probably most rattling paragraph. I think you'll like it Mistral. Here's the preview:
She was beyond repair. I knew this, but I would never accept it. I held her trembling hand, her breath was quickening. The deep gash across her torso would be the end of her. The smell of burning flesh would fill your nostrils from a yard away. Blood was accumulating visibly at the corners of her mouth. My body shuddered, racked in sorrow. I had gained my share of scars, but nothing would scar me as deeply as this. I frantically kissed the hand that I clenched so tightly. My spare fingers were used to brush aside locks of her hair. The soft dark hair that fell in goblet sized rings at her elbows was now damp with sweat and plastered to her skin. Her normally rosy cheeks were pale. Another sob escaped me. Why should she die? Why could I not be the one to go? I felt a hand touch my cheek. It was cold as ice. I looked into her eyes, my own welling with tears. Her beautiful amethyst eyes were filled with acceptance. Between gasps a hoarse version of her melodic voice sounded to me, “Don’t cry my love. Don’t cry my Merrick.” I blinked to obey her wish as a gurgling whimper escaped my throat unintentionally. She recoiled her hand, placing it on my own, rested on her shoulder. The purple eyes looked longingly at me. She whispered with an effort, “We will meet again someday.” I nodded, trying to comfort her in her last moments. A soft smile formed on her face, a smile that I will never leave me. Then her little head fell to the side and the amethyst eyes closed forever. Every muscle in my body trembled, every bone quaked, every vein shook. I whispered, “Sweet dreams Kyra.” I regained my feet and backed away from the corpse slowly. Fresh tears were threatening to erupt. Kyra, my beautiful sweet Kyra, was nearly cut in two.