ows over the phoenix statue—and its ssing wing.
Maybe,
Mulan thought,
I could fix everything??.??.??. if I fixed the phoenix.
Tiptoeing out of her roo down the stairs, and into the kitchen, she reached into the cupboard and pulled out a big bowl and grinding stone. Moving to the table, she set thenbsp; down before filling the bowl with the leftover sticky rice fronbsp; their evening al. As quietly as she could, she began to grind the rice. The large grains quickly turned to sh, and soon it had bee a thick, sticky paste. Satisfied, Mulan picked up the bowl and ved outside.
As she left the house, a cloud drifted across the on, casting the courtyard and shrine into sudden darkness. For a nt, Mulan stopped. Perhaps she should just let things be; ybe she had done enough dage as it was. But then the cloud ved, and once re the shrine grew bright. The phoenix, always frozen as if about to rise fronbsp; the ashes, looked hobbled with only one wing. Mulan nodded to herself. She would fix what she had broken.
Walking inside the shrine, Mulan kneeled on the ground. Then she lifted the broken wing and placed it on her lap. Slowly and carefully, she spread the thick paste on the edge of the wing. When the entire side was coated, she stood and walked over to the statue. Reaching up, she reattached the wing to the body. She stood still, her fingers turning white as she kept pressure between the two points on the bird, hoping to seal the bond. When she was sure it had been long enough, she ever so slowly, finger by finger, took her hands away.
Mulan waited, watching to see if the wing would hold.
Hearing footsteps, Mulan kept her eyes locked on the bird. A nt later, she felt her father step beside her. His eyes went to the bird, too. The pair stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Mulan,” Zhou finally said. His voice was hushed, but fir “What happened today, I never want to see happen again.” He paused, turning so that he was looking at her. When Mulan didn’t et his eyes, he reached out and put a finger underneath her chin to lift her head. “Do you understand?” he asked.
Taking a deep breath, Mulan nodded. Her father sled but disappointnt lingered in his eyes. Mulan hated to see that. His eyes had ever only been filled with kindness and adration when he looked down at her. Pulling her head free, unable to bear the look any longer, Mulan turned her gaze back to the phoenix. As she watched, the win
Maybe,
Mulan thought,
I could fix everything??.??.??. if I fixed the phoenix.
Tiptoeing out of her roo down the stairs, and into the kitchen, she reached into the cupboard and pulled out a big bowl and grinding stone. Moving to the table, she set thenbsp; down before filling the bowl with the leftover sticky rice fronbsp; their evening al. As quietly as she could, she began to grind the rice. The large grains quickly turned to sh, and soon it had bee a thick, sticky paste. Satisfied, Mulan picked up the bowl and ved outside.
As she left the house, a cloud drifted across the on, casting the courtyard and shrine into sudden darkness. For a nt, Mulan stopped. Perhaps she should just let things be; ybe she had done enough dage as it was. But then the cloud ved, and once re the shrine grew bright. The phoenix, always frozen as if about to rise fronbsp; the ashes, looked hobbled with only one wing. Mulan nodded to herself. She would fix what she had broken.
Walking inside the shrine, Mulan kneeled on the ground. Then she lifted the broken wing and placed it on her lap. Slowly and carefully, she spread the thick paste on the edge of the wing. When the entire side was coated, she stood and walked over to the statue. Reaching up, she reattached the wing to the body. She stood still, her fingers turning white as she kept pressure between the two points on the bird, hoping to seal the bond. When she was sure it had been long enough, she ever so slowly, finger by finger, took her hands away.
Mulan waited, watching to see if the wing would hold.
Hearing footsteps, Mulan kept her eyes locked on the bird. A nt later, she felt her father step beside her. His eyes went to the bird, too. The pair stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Mulan,” Zhou finally said. His voice was hushed, but fir “What happened today, I never want to see happen again.” He paused, turning so that he was looking at her. When Mulan didn’t et his eyes, he reached out and put a finger underneath her chin to lift her head. “Do you understand?” he asked.
Taking a deep breath, Mulan nodded. Her father sled but disappointnt lingered in his eyes. Mulan hated to see that. His eyes had ever only been filled with kindness and adration when he looked down at her. Pulling her head free, unable to bear the look any longer, Mulan turned her gaze back to the phoenix. As she watched, the win