Part 6

                                    

                                          
Dedicated to my readers and followers, without whom this wouldn't exist! Thanks for your support!
                          
I lean on the shovel, staring at Khan incredulously.
                          
"How do you make this much poop?" I grumble to the horse. He flicks his tail in response, without so much as a glance at me. I sigh, and prop the shovel against the wall, stretching my arms far above my head.
                          
In the days since the matchmaking disaster, the family has been thrown into strange fits of behavior. Mama tends to act overly cheerful around me, but her hands shake as she chops vegetables, and I've found her staring out a window for no apparent reason, brow wrinkled in worry. Grandmother has been acting more subdued, not teasing the household in the mornings, or making witty comments regarding the government, or even pretending to grumble when asked to do something. She's simply been compliant. Father seems to be the only one unaffected. His face seems a little more strained, the creases of worry in his face a little deeper, but otherwise he's the same, stern but gentle man he's always been.
                          
Now, I've changed too. Unlike Grandmother, I'm even more rebellious. I give cutting remarks to anything someone says, and complain loudly about everything. I love them all, I really do, but it's so hard to see the effects of my failure in their faces every day. The farm is struggling. Hail pounded the crops, so not only is thereless to sell, there's lessfor us to eat, and less for Bai and Khan to eat. We may have to sell the fine horse just to feed the remaining livestock... or ourselves. 
                          
I leave the barn, careful to latch the doors, and shake down my sweaty hair from where I tied it off my neck. My work clothes are covered in hay an smell like a dirty horse stall, and I'm thinking to change before dinner, when a drum starts pounding from outside the walls of our land. A second later, Father, Mama, and Grandmother appear in the doorway, all looking worried. Father's injury from the last great war with the Huns must be paining him even more today, for he's leaning on a  small wooden crutch. My parents hasten to the gate, Grandmother and I trailing slightly behind as they warily crack open one huge door and look out.
                          
"Looks safe," Mama says in a voice that clearly conveys the opposite.
                          
"That was the pattern of war drums," Father replies darkly, his gaze directed toward the city, where the drums still pound. "I'm going to hear what this means." Mama nods, and within a few moments, has a small cart hitched to the plow horse. She, Father, and Grandmother squeeze into it, and I start to follow, when Mama raises a hand. 
                          
'No, Mulan. Stay inside the walls. It's far too dangerous." 
                          
"But I-" One look from Father quails my protest, and I stare at the ground. "Yes, Mama." My mother taps a riding crop against the old horse, who begins to slowly clop down the road, and out of the gate. But as the last view of the cart rounds the corner, I catch Grandmother winking at me, a knowing smile on her face. The doors slam shut, and I know they'll be barricaded outside and inside as the three farmhands run to bloackade it further. 
                          
So why did Granmother wink? Was she, a sweet old lady, suggesting that I steal away to discover this news myself, against the wishes of my elders? A grin spreads over my face as I hastily saddle Khan, familiar enough with the tack that I could prepare to ride in my sleep. Together, we sneak out of the stable, and creep towards Grandmother's herb garden, when the wall dips down far lower, for decorative purposes in showing off the many overgrown plants. I mount Khan, and he paws the ground like a bull ready to fight. 
                          
The wind whips back my hair. Khan is gaining speed, and I know now that it's far too late to stop, that we'll either clear the wall or smash into it, and the next instant, time slows down. We sail over the stone wall, clearing it easily, flying through space, clearly aware of the pounding of my heart in my chest. It was one of the most exhilarating moments of my life, that jump. of course, time sped back to normal, and the price of such an experience was the jolt in landing on the pavement, my back screaming in pain at the sudden contraction of vertebrae. 
                          
There's no time to linger on pain. Khan streaks down the road, just as the drumming stops. It takes only a few minutes before we're behind the bulk of the crowd. I slip off Khan, as he would draw far too much attention, and weave through the crowd to the front, much to the surprise and disapproval of nearby citizens. At last, however, my effots pay off, and I find myself at the front of the crowds, where a very thin, sharply angled man with a thin, sharply angled hat sits atop a fine horse bearing the mark of the Emporer. In a high nasally voice, he begins to read from a scroll.
                          
"Citizens of this small, outlying village! I bring to you a proclamation from the Imperial City, home to our beloved Emporer. The Huns have invaded our borders! By order of the Emporer and General Shang, one man from every Chinese family must serve in the Imperial Army against this threat." The thin man sniffs, like these common people are beneath his interest, and proceeds to unroll another scroll.
                          
"As I call your family name, one man must step forward and recieve his notice of conscription to serve the Emproer. Report tomorrow to the Moo-Shung camp, due east on this road. It is not a long journey, so your commander will expect you to be on time!" He clears his throat noisily, and then begins reading the list.
                          
"The Chu Family!" A man pushes his way through the crowds, probably in his mid-forties. I can't help but wonder if he will return from the war... "The Chang Family!" A man far older than Chu hobbles forward, but as he reaches out his hand, another takes the bound scroll.
                          
"I will serve the emporer in my father's place," the owner of the hand, and a far younger man, says confidently. A burst of mutterings break out over the crowd, semmingly approval for the young man's sense of duty, bravery, and honor. The thin man is unimpressed. He rearranges his blue silk robes, and clears his throat with another arrogant sniff.
                          
"The Yee family!" The names begin to pass by in a blur. An old man with bright blue eyes. A young boy no more than fourteen. A middle-aged man with a little girl on his arm and a slightly older boy holding his hand. Lost in my thoughts, i almost don't notice when the flow of names interrupts.
                          
"The Fa Family!" Instantly, the crowd goes deathly silent. My father, without the crutch I know he has with him, limps to the messenger, hiding the pain I can see in his eyes. He's aware of the silent crowd, and at last speaks.
                          
"I am ready to serve the Emporer." What an horoable, stupid thing to say! The next instant, I'm pushing through the few people that are between me and my father. In slow motion, his old, calloused fingers tighten around the bound notice scroll, when I fling myself in front of him, like I can protect him form enemy archers and swordsmen. 
                          
"Father, you can't go!" I say loudly. The man in blue has a look on his face like someone just stuck him with a pin, and I'm suddenly conscious of my mud-stained work clothes, my hair loose and filled with straw.
                          
"Mulan!" My father reprimands, his voice shocked.
                          
"Please sir," I beg the skinny man on his horse, "My father has already-"
                          
"Silence!' the man barks, his mustasche practically twitching with irritation. He looks down his nose at me, then raises his look to my father.
                          
"You will do well to teach your daughter to hold her tongue in a man's prescence," he sniffs haughtily.
                          
"Mulan," my father says sternly, but without looking at me. "You dishonor me," he finishes softly. His disappointment in me hurts far more than anything else. What was i thinking? I'm just a simple farm girl, who can't even manage to get a married, or wear clean clothes in public, or hold my tongue, or memorize the Lessons for Ladies, or-
                          
My heart can't take it anymore. A gentle, motherly hand touches my shoulder, but I run away from it, breaking theough the crowd, throwing myself at Khan, and blindly riding away from the source of my shame.
                          
It isn't until we're past the gates that I realize I'm sobbing.
                          
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Well, haven't been here in a while! Hope y'all enjoyed that. I'll be focusing more on NaNoWriMo this month, but I plan to continue with this, however slowly.
                          
Comments are wonderful :)