The Steel Magnolia

The air reeked. It was an almost salty stench, permeated in areas with the distinctive scent of blood. The smell of death.

One by one, Hun warriors freed themselves from blood-sprinkled snow, their bone-chilling cries echoing against mountain walls. Her face, pallid, drained of any color it held, now showed only true horror. Her form reflected in their hungry yellow eyes.

Their clothes were torn, open wounds bitten at by harsh teeth of the frigid cold. Their heavy exhalations wisped out in front of their scarred faces, breathing so hard air came from noses and mouths. Pair upon pair of eyes glared at her, charging for her, willing her blood to be coating their twisted silver swords.

She stood rigid, rooted to the spot. Something kept her feet from moving.
Her head snapped to the side, glowing brown eyes darting around in search of her superior, her captain, the man she dared call friend. She found him at last, only to be met with eyes of the purest cold, colder than the mountain air surrounding them, his head shaking in poorly concealed disdain. He would not help her.

Suddenly, her face was painted, her body no longer wearing the armor of a soldier, but the silken dress of a courtesan, something a girl her age would wear to the matchmaker's test. She was but a country girl again, and somewhere in the distance, creeping closer, she could hear the laughs of the villagers, disgracing her family down to the gong-ringers.
Her father's agonized voice appeared beside her: “Why did you leave, Mulan? Why do you dishonor your family so?”
She looked to him in panic; two gaping, bleeding holes stood where wise eyes had once been.

Mulan awoke with a start. Sweat cascaded down her face, and her ears rung violently. The night air danced its way through threads of her tent material, caressing her arms and running bony fingers down her spine. Her head pounded, like demons had trapped themselves inside her skull.

Mulan realized—it was all a nightmare. She was at camp.

Her heart gave an unexpected jolt at the sound of frantic footsteps outside her tent. Cold air from a windy night rushed inside, stinging Mulan's tired, teary eyes as a tall, blurred figure immediately (and seemingly out of nowhere) was at her side.

“Mulan? Mulan, look at me. Are you alright?”
Blindly, she nodded; she felt a warm liquid dripping from her eyes onto her cheeks.

“Are you sure? What happened? Are you hurt?”
The voice was soft, hushed, so unlike what she was used to hearing from him. Even in her stupefied state, she could identify the voice. She could not, however, identify the tone.

She wiped the salty water from her bloodshot eyes, finding her focus and meeting an expression that she never saw on him: pure, undiluted worry.
Slowly becoming more and more coherent, she managed to squeak out a denial. Mulan could barely hear herself—the ringing in her ears was nearly blocking out all sounds.
Where is that coming from? She wondered. Then, she realized—she had screamed.

“N-n-nightmare...H-Huns everywhere, wanting to-to kill me,” she stuttered. “I wanted you, b-but you said n-n-no, and Baba—“
“Shh, Mulan, you're babbling.” Shang put his hands on her shoulders, desperately attempting to get her shaking body to calm down. “Your scream scared us half to death! We thought you had been murdered!”

After that, I wish I had been, she thought morbidly.

“Do you need anything?” Shang asked quickly. She had barely let the word 'water' pass her lips when he sent Ling to go get some.
Mulan felt herself shaking violently. She doubted it was the cold, though her skin rippled with goosebumps as air pumped in and out of the tent. Her body calmed as the water passed through her lips and glided easily down her throat, though freezing air still seeped through her pores and down to her very core.

Mulan only just became aware of Shang's eyes scrutinizing her as she finished off the water. Looking discreetly beside her, she caught his gaze, his stern eyes laced with worry. She finally realized the extent to which she must have scared him. Taking a deep breath, she answered his unasked question. “I'm fine.”

Physically, she was; emotionally, she could not be sure.

Mulan doubted she would ever again have so horrible a nightmare. She knew from the moment she thought coherently that it would mar her for a very long time, if not forever. Remembering the hungry eyes of the Huns sent paralyzing sensations down her spine. They had, after all, provoked memories she desperately wanted to throw to the wind, for reasons that need no explanation.

Shang had soon after nodded and rose, despite the doubt stifled behind his eyes, taking a last look back at Mulan's form before briskly (though seemingly reluctantly) left Mulan to herself once more, taking all the soldiers conjugated around the tent with him. Mulan sighed heavily, engulfing herself in the covers and willing herself to return to sleep as soon as possible. She soon found out this would not be so feasible, desperately fearing that any nightmares should come.

Her voice tremoring slightly, she began to sing the words to a lullaby her mother sang to her when she was an infant. She found herself drifting away, allayed into sleep by the sound of her own humming. This time, no dreams followed her into the next world.

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The black falcon spread its wings, circling above its owners. Its dark body was a contrast to the ominous gray clouds overhead. These clouds were extending over China and across her borders, threatening to release its torrential wrath at any second. The shrill falcon's cry pierced the air as it swooped down to perch on a shoulder.

A thousand Huns stared at the back of their leader, a fifth of the man's army. They were a mass of gray skin and unblinking yellow eyes, furs of wild animals draped over their shoulders, murderous expressions displayed upon their reprobate profiles. Bai Shen turned to face his faithful followers, those who were ready to heed his every command at an instant.

“Bai Shen, when do we attack?” one of the many barked. “We have been waiting long, and the Emperor has not let up.”
Shen rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“The old man is stubborn,” he replied.
“But he cannot resist the strength of our army for much longer.”

The hulking man turned back to face the majestic mass of stone that stood in their way on the path to conquering China. His army had been stationed at the foot of this wall for many weeks. It would be easy for them to scale the Great Wall, but would prove much less feasible to get any further. The Imperial Army had joined forces with two other kingdoms to rebuild itself after the previous fiasco from six months ago, and would prove even harder to beat this time. Still, the threat of Bai Shen and his abundant army hung over China's head like the clouds that were swallowing her at that moment.

Finally, the man spoke.
“We shall give him a lunar cycle. If he is still persistent, we attack.”
His pale yellow eyes surveyed the terrain in front of him.

“What of the woman warrior, Fa Mulan? How will she be taken care of?” another man inquired.
Bai Shen smiled a wicked smile at the sound of that name. The name of the killer of his predecessor.

“Ah yes, Fa Mulan.” he chuckled.
“She will be treated with extra care.”