Him.
Those three darned letters are the reason as to why I'm standing here, an arrow embedded between my ribs. Perhaps it's of utmost importance that I explain my situation, but during the last moments of my life, that does not feel as much of a priority as it should be.
Pain is something I don't feel anymore. I could feel my knees buckle below me, the noise of the battleground muffled as if I were underwater. My hour has come but I felt nothing but betrayal from that wretched man.
The archer who shot me kicks me on my chest, the arrow going in deeper. I feel my mouth open, either in agony or in helplessness, I might never know. My eyes flutter shut, the pain singing me to deep sleep.
Oh hell, he is so going to pay for this.