10
By the time Mulan found a pair of boots that fit and training clothes that were only two sizes too big, it was growing dark. Walking out of the clothing tent, she searched for her assigned barracks. Each tent looked the same, and for a while, she wandered through the encampment, happy for the darkness and the solitude. After weeks of being alone, she realized she had grown used to the solitary sounds of the thoughts in her head and Black Wind’s hooves hitting the ground.
As she moved among the tents, she wrinkled her nose at the odd scents that filled the air. There was a distinct mixture of sweat, unwashed clothes, and undercooked meat. Even though she was hungry, the smell did little to entice her to fill her belly, instead making her queasy. Fires had been lit in front of the bigger tents, and soldiers stood around them, warming their hands, their booming voices all the louder in the stillness of the night.
Mulan sighed. She wanted desperately, in that moment, to be back in her family’s house, sitting with her sister. She wouldn’t even have protested if her mother tried to play with her unruly hair, twisting it and looping it as she mumbled to herself. Your hair is like you, Mulan, impossible to control, she would say. But her voice would be soft, and Mulan would feel her mother’s gentle fingers brush over her shoulders, silently adding,
I love you.
Shaking her head, Mulan pushed away the thoughts of home. They would do her no good. The monks had told her she had to act like a man. And men didn’t get weepy and sentimental. Spotting her assigned tent, Mulan slipped inside.
Immediately, she wished she hadn’t.
In front of her, men in various stages of undress joked and laughed with one another. Mulan’s face flushed and she felt her throat become dry. Two of the conscripts were trading playful punches while they argued over who should get the better sleeping platform. Another conscript was searching through his clothing, tossing things over his shoulder without care. There was a conscript sharpening his sword and another picking his teeth with the tip of a dagger.
Keeping her eyes down, Mulan made her way through the tent. Other than the soldiers, the tent itself was practically empty. The only furniture was the eight sleeping platforms that ran the length of the tent. Beside most of them were piles of clothing and equipment, thrown down by whatever soldier had claimed that platform. Spotting one of the last empty platforms, Mulan started toward it. But just as she was about to reach it, a conscript moved in front of her, his bare skin brushing Mulan’s fingertips.
Mulan stopped in her tracks.
A moment later, someone bumped into her.
Turning, Mulan bit back a groan. It was Cricket. And with him was Longwei. They returned her gaze, eyebrows raised. But before any of them could speak, the larger conscript that had been bullying them earlier appeared. He, like almost everyone else, was nearly naked. As he spotted the younger conscripts, a huge smile spread over his face. For a moment, it almost looked as though he were genuinely happy to see Cricket and Longwei, like they were long-lost friends. But then he grabbed them both in a headlock and pulled them into the growing ruckus caused by the rowdy conscripts.
Desperate to get as far from the chaos as she could, Mulan once again tried to get to the empty sleeping platform. But it seemed fate was not on her side, for just as she reached it, her eyes moved up and locked on Honghui. The handsome conscript was standing next to his friend, a man Mulan recalled another conscript calling Po.
“Look who’s here,” Po said, nudging Honghui.
For a moment, Mulan had a flash of hope that maybe Honghui would have forgotten about their earlier interaction and be ready to move on.
But then the conscript looked over at her. His expression darkened.
Or not,
Mulan thought. She knew that if Skatch and Ramtish had been there, they would’ve told her that a true man did not apologize. But the last thing Mulan needed was an enemy. The less attention she had on her, the better. With that in mind, she opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could, a loud voice boomed through the tent. Instantly, the conscripts stopped their roughhousing as all eyes turned toward the front entrance. Sergeant Qiang, their commanding officer, stood with his face in shadow.
“I told you to line up for showers!” he said, his tone angry.
“Showers?” Mulan repeated, panic flooding through her.
Sergeant Qiang nodded. “Showers! You lot stink!”
As the other conscripts filed out, ready to follow orders and eager to wash the stink off themselves, Mulan stood and fiddled with her armor. She couldn’t take a shower. Her secret would be out and she would be in serious trouble. But she would also be in trouble if she refused an order. She nervously played with her new shirt, picking at a loose hem. She had no choice. She was just going to have to run away. Take her things and hightail it back home and suffer the consequences. There was nothing else she could do . . .
“And I need a volunteer for night guard duty—”
Mulan didn’t hesitate. Her hand shot up in the air. “Me!” she said. Her voice was loud and she sounded way too eager for the mundane task. Lowering her hand she added, this time more calmly, “I mean, I volunteer, sir.” As she made her way over to the sergeant, she saw Honghui and Po share a look.
“Better keep an eye out,” Honghui warned, though he didn’t sound very concerned.
Po nodded. “Those northern invaders eat tadpoles,” he added.
As he pushed past her, Po opened his mouth and bit at the air. Mulan kept her expression neutral. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. But as soon as they were gone, she shivered. Joking aside, she had just volunteered for a job that put her on the first line of defense against the invaders.
If the sergeant hadn’t been standing there waiting, Mulan would have hit herself upside the head. She just kept getting herself into deeper—and hotter—water. Then her lips formed into a rueful smile at the irony of her thought. She wasn’t getting into any water—just trouble.
Mulan stood, chilled to the bone, as she stared out into the darkness beyond the barrack walls. As the only conscript on the tower, she had been told, or rather ordered, to keep her eyes peeled and her ears open. The invaders, the sergeant had been happy to tell her, would be able to see her before she could see them. And if they got through the gates on her watch, they would be the least of her worries.
For the first few hours, Mulan had actually enjoyed the patrol. The guard tower was quiet, and for the first time since she had arrived at the camp, she had been able to relax. Her breath had become even, her heartbeat returning to normal after what had felt like constant galloping, and she had even, a few times, hummed to herself in her regular voice. But about three hours in, it started to get cold, and an hour later, the clouds rolled in. By the time she was only halfway through her shift, rain was falling in sheets in front of her.
But not on her.
The realization startled her, and she looked up. She groaned as she saw the Phoenix. The bird was perched on the edge of the roof of the guard tower, her wing outstretched, creating an umbrella for Mulan. Mulan’s eyes narrowed. She had told the bird to leave her alone. The last thing she needed was to have someone spot her being taken care of by a large, ugly bird.
She took a wide step to the right. Instantly, she was drenched.
Up on the roof, the bird shuffled to the right. The rain stopped.
Growing angry, Mulan stepped in the opposite direction. As rain covered her face and soaked her clothes, she looked up at the Phoenix. “I told you,” she hissed. “I don’t need you.”
The Phoenix shrugged, as if to say,
Fine, be that way,
and then deliberately folded in her wings. Mulan was left to stand in the rain.
Mulan’s eyes drooped and her body shivered from a combination of cold and exhaustion by the time the next conscript arrived to relieve her. Not trusting her own voice, Mulan nodded to him and then hastily made her way back to her barracks. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep.
But when she pushed back the flap on the tent, her dreams of getting a good night’s rest faded. Every platform was taken. Some of the sleeping berths even had more than one conscript lying across them. Loud snores and an occasional grunt sounded through the tent, making it almost as loud as if everyone were up and talking. Taking a deep breath, Mulan tiptoed down the narrow lane between the platforms. Her eyes scanned left to right and back again, desperately looking for an empty space. She passed Honghui and Po, lying back to back. She briefly thought about wringing out her wet shirt over their heads to get back at them for the tadpole comment, but thought better of it when Honghui grunted loudly. Even in sleep he was intimidating.
Just as she was about to give up and go find a place to sleep outside, she spotted a tiny, narrow space at the very end of the tent. She made her way over. Looking around to make sure that no one had awoken, she took off the wettest and dirtiest of her layers. She winced as she lifted them over her head. Her shoulders were stiff from hours of standing still, and she dreaded to think what they would feel like tomorrow. But as she pulled at the tight leather bindings that covered her chest, she took a grateful gulp of air. The bindings were necessary to protect her identity, but they were not comfortable.
Dressed in a simple long white shirt that she hoped hid most of her curves, Mulan carefully lay down. For one glorious moment, she simply relaxed there with her eyes closed, letting her muscles take a break.
And then the soldier beside her let out a loud snort and turned over. As he did so, he threw his arm across Mulan, pinning her down. To her horror, she realized it wasn’t just any conscript—it was Yao! The same guy who had bullied Cricket. Lifting a hand, she tried to gingerly move his arm off, but then he let out another snort and flung his other hand across her. Now not only was her body pinned down, but her arms were, too. She was trapped.
Mulan’s mind raced while her body remained frozen. She had to get Yao off her. But how? She couldn’t move her arms and she definitely couldn’t afford to wake him up and have him see her without her armor on. The white shirt was good enough camouflage for a distant onlooker, but Yao was way too close for comfort—on many levels.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a feather appear. It was scrawny and faded but as she watched, it began to tickle Yao’s nose. Ever so carefully, she lifted her head. The Phoenix was standing at the edge of the platform, using her tail feathers to tickle Yao. He mumbled in his sleep and tried to brush away the feather, but the Phoenix kept tickling. Yao sneezed. Half waking himself in the process, he flipped over, turning his back to Mulan and throwing an arm around the soldier on the other side.
Mulan exhaled. Looking over at the bird, who was starting to hop out of the tent, Mulan gave her a reluctant nod. Maybe she did need her . . . a little bit.
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