MulansatbehindXiu,absent-mindedlybrushinghersister’slongblackhair.Infrontofher,theyoungergirlwasquiet,lostinherthoughts.Mulandidn’tmindthesilence.Herownbrainwasloudandbusyenough.Allshecouldseewasherfather’slookofdisappointment.Ithauntedherlikeanightmareshecouldn’twakefrom,makingherfeelshakyandufortable.Thelastthingshewouldeverwanttodowashurtherfather.Butshehadn’thadachoice.Oratleast,thatwaswhatshekepttellingherself.Therewasnowayherfathercouldhavegivenchase,notwithhisweakleg.Whileherfathermayhavebeenaherointhewar,hisinjurykepthimfromworkingashardashewouldliketointhevillage.Mulanhadsimplywantedtohelp.
Andsomehow,sheseemedtohavedonejusttheopposite.
“Mulan?”
Xiu’squietvoiceinterruptedMulan’sdarkthoughts.Herhandstopped,thebrushhoveringoverXiu’shairasshewaitedtohearwhathersisterwantedtosay.
“Whathappenedwhenyoufellofftheroof?”Xiuasked.
Mulandidn’tneedtoquestionwhatXiumeant.Shehadfesomething??.??.??.odd??.??.??.asshefelhroughtheair.Likesomehowhermindhadseenastepaheadandherbodyhadknownthemovesitneededtomakebeforeshewasevenawareherself.Butshewasn’tabouttoadmitherthoughtsoutloud—especiallytoheryoungersister.“Iwaschasingthatnaughtychicken,”shesaidinsteadassheresumedspbingXiu’shair.
Beneaththespb,Xiushookherhead.“No,”shepressed.“Whenyouslipped.Foramomentitwaslikeyouwereabird??.??.??.”Theyoungergirl’svoicetrailedoff.
Mulanfrowned,surprisedbyhersister’sastuteobservation.Xiuwasright.Shehadfelikeabird.Asshehadswoopedandswungaroundthatbeam,shehadn’tfescared.Shehadfealive.Morealivethanshehadeverfebefore.Shehadbeenlikeabirdsoaringthroughthesky,playingonthewind.Notaclumsychickenbutagracefulbirdofprey.
Buthowwasthatevenpossible?Shehadn’tdaredthinkaboutituntihisverymoment,butsheknewthatshehadnarrowlyescapedgettinghurt—orworse.Somehow,whateverthatfeelinginsideherwas,ithadmanagedtosaveher.Whichsoundedstrange.Whichmeanttherewasnowayshewasgoingtosayitaloudtohersister,becauseXiuwoulddefinitelythinkitwasstrange.Soinstead,Mulanchangedthesubject.