sounded fliy.
Mulan felt Cricket’s and Longwei’s eyes on her, as well as the bullies’. She could sense thenbsp; looking back and forth between her and the young n across fronbsp; her. She heard soone whisper “Honghui,” and a few others repeat the na. Her arnbsp; shook and she wanted to drop her sword, but she couldn’t. Not until the other conscript, or rather Honghui, dropped his.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another person approaching. It was an older n, his face lined with age and experience. There was a flash of vent. Before Mulan could blink, her arnbsp; was twisted behind her back. A nt later the sword was reved fronbsp; her hand and her arnbsp; dropped to her side. Next to her, Honghui rubbed his own ar his eyes on his weapon.
“I anbsp; your nding officer—Coander Tung!” the n shouted. “Fighting will not be tolerated. Anbsp; I clear?” He stared at the young n, his eyes icy.
“Yes, Coander,” the other conscript said iediately.
The nder turned to Mulan and repeated the question. Mulan’s voice stuck in her throat. She nodded.
“With your voice, soldier,” Coander Tung ordered.
“Yes, Coander,” Mulan said.
Across fronbsp; her, Honghui took back his sword and glared at Mulan. She had ssed up. Already she was gaining enees, not allies.
Handing Mulan her sword, the nder hesitated, his gaze catching on the engraving on its blade. Recognition flashed over his face and he looked up at Mulan with renewed interest. “What’s your na, soldier?” he asked.
“Hua Jun, Coander,” Mulan said, the fib gliding off her tongue.
“Is this your faly’s sword?” Coander Tung asked.
Mulan nodded and then reered that the nder wanted words. “It belongs to father, Hua Zhou,” she said.
There was a nt as the nder looked back and forth between the sword and Mulan, his face still but his eyes flickering with etion. Then, noticing her bare feet, he nodded toward a tent behind the “Go get yourself a pair of boots,” he said. Before Mulan could respond, Coander Tung had rched off, disappearing into the hustle and bustle of the encant.
Mulan watched hinbsp; go. When he was out of sight, she let out the breath she had been holding. The nder could have had her punished or sent her away. Instead, he had seed to take an interest in her—or at least her faly na. While she wasn’t thrilled that she already had enees ang the other conscripts, the encounter at least ant she was getting boots. Which, she thought, looking down at her bloody feet, couldn’t have e at a bet
Mulan felt Cricket’s and Longwei’s eyes on her, as well as the bullies’. She could sense thenbsp; looking back and forth between her and the young n across fronbsp; her. She heard soone whisper “Honghui,” and a few others repeat the na. Her arnbsp; shook and she wanted to drop her sword, but she couldn’t. Not until the other conscript, or rather Honghui, dropped his.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another person approaching. It was an older n, his face lined with age and experience. There was a flash of vent. Before Mulan could blink, her arnbsp; was twisted behind her back. A nt later the sword was reved fronbsp; her hand and her arnbsp; dropped to her side. Next to her, Honghui rubbed his own ar his eyes on his weapon.
“I anbsp; your nding officer—Coander Tung!” the n shouted. “Fighting will not be tolerated. Anbsp; I clear?” He stared at the young n, his eyes icy.
“Yes, Coander,” the other conscript said iediately.
The nder turned to Mulan and repeated the question. Mulan’s voice stuck in her throat. She nodded.
“With your voice, soldier,” Coander Tung ordered.
“Yes, Coander,” Mulan said.
Across fronbsp; her, Honghui took back his sword and glared at Mulan. She had ssed up. Already she was gaining enees, not allies.
Handing Mulan her sword, the nder hesitated, his gaze catching on the engraving on its blade. Recognition flashed over his face and he looked up at Mulan with renewed interest. “What’s your na, soldier?” he asked.
“Hua Jun, Coander,” Mulan said, the fib gliding off her tongue.
“Is this your faly’s sword?” Coander Tung asked.
Mulan nodded and then reered that the nder wanted words. “It belongs to father, Hua Zhou,” she said.
There was a nt as the nder looked back and forth between the sword and Mulan, his face still but his eyes flickering with etion. Then, noticing her bare feet, he nodded toward a tent behind the “Go get yourself a pair of boots,” he said. Before Mulan could respond, Coander Tung had rched off, disappearing into the hustle and bustle of the encant.
Mulan watched hinbsp; go. When he was out of sight, she let out the breath she had been holding. The nder could have had her punished or sent her away. Instead, he had seed to take an interest in her—or at least her faly na. While she wasn’t thrilled that she already had enees ang the other conscripts, the encounter at least ant she was getting boots. Which, she thought, looking down at her bloody feet, couldn’t have e at a bet