Faith of the Fallen

Kahlan said. She smiled sheepishly. “Like this, I mean.”

By the direction and quality of the light, Kahlan guessed it had to be somewhere in the middle of a thinly overcast day.

mouth over hers and filled her stilled lungs with his breath, his life, and in so doing had rekindled

She didn’t remember dying.
With an obscure sense of apprehension, she wondered if the distant angry voices drifting in to her meant she was again about to experience that transcendent ending: death.
There was absolutely nothing she could do about it if she was.
While she didn’t remember dying, she dimly recalled, at some later point, solemn whispers saying that she had, saying that death had taken her, but that he had pressed his mouth over hers and filled her stilled lungs with his breath, his life, and in so doing had rekindled hers. She had had no idea who it was that spoke of such an inconceivable feat, or who “he” was.
That first night, when she had perceived the distant, disembodied voices

against all those men, men baring their teeth like a pack of wild hounds with a hare. She remembered the rain of brutal blows driving her to the ground, heavy boots slamming into her once she was there, and