She felt quite silly. Sitting together with a bunch of women and girls, and a few younger boys. They all came from very different backgrounds, but had one thing in common; their slight build, so it had been decided that Arya Stark would be the one to best teach them how to fight in the upcoming battle.
"Remember," Arya said, holding up a dragonglass dagger. "first lesson; stick 'em with the pointy end!"
It was hard; training. Arya did not teach them to fight with style or grace.
She taught them one rule, and one rule only; destroy your enemy, by any means necessary.
She taught them to stab with anything, daggers, arrows, spears, anything with a pointy end.
She taught them to look Death in the face and tell him; "I am not afraid!"
Pain shot through her body, as she felt all her ribs – and probably her spine too – get crushed in the undead giant's grip, and blood filling her mouth. Life was slipping away from her as the creature slowly, menacingly, brought her closer to its face. Perhaps her cousin had been right, perhaps she really should have stayed hidden, battle was no place for a girl like her – only thirteen years of age – especially not a battle like this.
Then, from somewhere deep within her mind, a voice came ringing back to her; "Stick 'em with the pointy end!" with one last defiant scream she plunged her dagger into the creature's one remaining – icy blue – eye. It fell down, dead once more, and she fell from its grip, mortally wounded but with the knowledge that she had done her part; she had destroyed one of the enemy.
She had looked Death in the face.
She was not afraid.