Things went black for a second, and then Lyanna was aware. Not exactly conscious, or aware of her surroundings; just... aware. She'd died - Been swallowed by something with a massive mouth - but she didn't experience the panic that she had in the moments before her death. There was no stuttering staccato of a terrified heart here, or the painful, burning constriction of lungs that had forgotten how to work. She couldn't feel anything at all.

She'd always thought that if her life flashed before her in death it would be just that, a flash, but this wasn't what she'd expected. Slowly memories began to fall through her mind like dripping condensation on a cold glass during summer heat. Slow, making wobbling rivulets as they went. One memory would start and then moments later, before the first had ended, another would begin it's journey. Sometimes they would collide and combine so flawlessly that she wasn't sure where one memory ended and another began.

She remembered her childhood, as normal as a hunter's childhood could be. Her recruitment. Her first friend, a cheery recruit who hadn't made it past the trial. The painful lesson that recruit's death had taught her. Now, she couldn't even recall the woman's name. Some of the things she remembered didn't seem to be memories at all, but flashes of color or sound that startled her awareness and disoriented her for a moment before everything began to move again. Memories of missions clustered together, bringing with them images of hunter faces that she knew. Some she could name, others were only barely recognizable. The more recent the memory the clearer she saw it, until she was able to remember dates and conversations.

Over time she had changed. Though the memories came in no particular order, having no regard for time lines, it was obvious how old or new the were. It was more than just a little aging of the face. More than how many scars she bore or how her body had changed. Her demeanor had changed over the time she spent spent as a hunter. She had been a bright-faced young girl before the life of missions and danger. Even at the beginning of her "career" her jokes had been filled with vibrance and life. She laughed more often. Enjoyed company more often. She remembered her partners from these years better because she had taken the time to know them. Almost all of them had died. Her later years of life had seen a loss of youthful color. Her humor was plagued by morbid sarcasm, her life chased away by blunt honesty. She was gambling with her existence every time she awoke, and it had chipped away at the girl she'd been.

Did she regret it? No.

How could she regret those small sacrifices, only bits of personality thrown to the wind, when she'd done it to help so many people. Hunters were the only armed forces protecting innocents from the chaos of the monsters that lived under their beds. Every division, every individual, gave their life to that cause. There was nothing to regret in the selfless act.

Except, perhaps, not living. There had been no Friday nights at the theatre with friends. No world-crushing drama to face and conquer. There was no time for family or social occasions. She hadn't noticed before, because all this had slowly filtered away rather than being cut off immediately. In the beginning she'd clung to these small symbols of normalcy, but as time wore on she'd just let go.

That made it a choice, right? So she couldn't regret.

The memories were running out. She could feel them slipping away slowly, like good friends who didn't want to leave. Just one more moment. One more flicker of remembrance. She clung to them, finally feeling the panic that had been missing. It wasn't a physical panic, only her awareness trying to follow the memories and hold on to them. She struggled to find more to remember.

The cafeteria. Mercutio. Threatening that man, Dominic. Mercutio hoping for an unimportant mission. She'd known it would be important. She could remember the mass of hunters that had arrived on the island, too many to even feign hope of unimportance. She'd told the boys so.

Was it wrong to say I told you so in your death?

She felt her lungs stop and her mental panic heightened. She hadn't known that she'd even been breathing, but feeling the loss made her wish for it back. The memory of the cafeteria began to fade, as did the sounds. Her awareness began to feel sluggish, almost like she was going to sleep.

That would be nice. Just a little sleep, and then she'd help the rest of the hunters when she awoke. That would be okay.