After her and the obviously very young girl had walked together for a number of hours - the brunette being uncomfortably alert and waiting for whatever could have been out there - Lyanna felt comfortable enough to make judgements when it came to the girl’s character. She was extremely rebellious, but Lyanna knew in her soul that that particular character trait wasn’t anything new. The girl probably had several brothers and sisters - leaving her forced to fight for attention. Some chose the silent and compliant route, but it was obvious that Arya had chosen that of a loud, out going, and a demanding one. Determination was also another thing Lyanna felt in the air around them as they made their way. The girl was, blunt, brutal, and made of Valyrian steel. But the most prominent thing Lyanna felt when around the small, brunette girl was the sense of loss, longing, and mourning. Not that the girl had ever shown her a piece of what she was sure Arya would class as “weakness”, but to perfect the best steel sword, you had to burn your hand a few times. And the brunette had experienced just that. Burns, turmoil, remorse, and probably regret. And in that, while Lyanna was sure she would never ask, Arya had a friend in Lyanna.