But the Matchker was not nearly as quiet. Storng out fronbsp; behind the she lifted her arnbsp; and pointed an usatory finger right at Mulan. “Dishonor to the Hua faly!” she scread, her voice bouncing off the walls of the nearby houses and catching the attention of the entire village. “They have failed to raise a good daughter!”
Each word was like a slap across Mulan’s face. The Matchker was right. She had failed her faly. She would never bring thenbsp; honor. How could she, now that the Matchker would never let her step foot in her house again?
Not daring to et her father’s gaze, unable to face the disappointnt she knew she would see, Mulan began to trudge across the courtyard and back to her own ho. It was going to be the longest walk of her life with nothing but her sad thoughts and angry looks fronbsp; her ther for pany. In that second, Mulan wished for anything, anything at all, to take the attention fronbsp; her.
As if on cue, the sound of drueats began to echo through the village.
Mulan and her faly, along with the entire village, stopped in their tracks. All eyes turned toward the single-lane road that led into their sll village. Norlly it was ety, the dirt undisturbed. But now they could see billowing sand kicked into the air by what appeared to be a sll parade of riders.
A few of the younger children raced ahead to see what was happening and turned around. “Soldiers!” they shouted as they ran back.
Mulan’s heart pounded in her chest as around her, the villagers began to rr ang theelves. It had been years since soldiers had appeared in their village. The last ti had been when her own father had been taken off to fight for the Eeror. What could they be doing there now? Just then, the druing stopped and the dust settled. There, standing in front of the were a gistrate and six soldiers. The n looked at the villagers fronbsp; atop their horses, their faces hidden by sks. With a signal fronbsp; the gistrate, several of thenbsp; jued down and began to post pieces of paper to various houses.
“Citizens! Citizens!” the gistrate shouted, as if he hadn’t already gotten everyone’s attention. “We are under attack fronbsp; northern invaders. Our land is at war! By edict of His Ierial Majesty the Son of Heaven, every faly st contribute one n to fight! One n fronbsp; every house!” He pulled out a scroll and unrolled it. Fronbsp; where she stood, Mulan could see that the writing on the scroll was a long list of nas. “Wang faly! Chin faly!”
As the gistrate contin
Each word was like a slap across Mulan’s face. The Matchker was right. She had failed her faly. She would never bring thenbsp; honor. How could she, now that the Matchker would never let her step foot in her house again?
Not daring to et her father’s gaze, unable to face the disappointnt she knew she would see, Mulan began to trudge across the courtyard and back to her own ho. It was going to be the longest walk of her life with nothing but her sad thoughts and angry looks fronbsp; her ther for pany. In that second, Mulan wished for anything, anything at all, to take the attention fronbsp; her.
As if on cue, the sound of drueats began to echo through the village.
Mulan and her faly, along with the entire village, stopped in their tracks. All eyes turned toward the single-lane road that led into their sll village. Norlly it was ety, the dirt undisturbed. But now they could see billowing sand kicked into the air by what appeared to be a sll parade of riders.
A few of the younger children raced ahead to see what was happening and turned around. “Soldiers!” they shouted as they ran back.
Mulan’s heart pounded in her chest as around her, the villagers began to rr ang theelves. It had been years since soldiers had appeared in their village. The last ti had been when her own father had been taken off to fight for the Eeror. What could they be doing there now? Just then, the druing stopped and the dust settled. There, standing in front of the were a gistrate and six soldiers. The n looked at the villagers fronbsp; atop their horses, their faces hidden by sks. With a signal fronbsp; the gistrate, several of thenbsp; jued down and began to post pieces of paper to various houses.
“Citizens! Citizens!” the gistrate shouted, as if he hadn’t already gotten everyone’s attention. “We are under attack fronbsp; northern invaders. Our land is at war! By edict of His Ierial Majesty the Son of Heaven, every faly st contribute one n to fight! One n fronbsp; every house!” He pulled out a scroll and unrolled it. Fronbsp; where she stood, Mulan could see that the writing on the scroll was a long list of nas. “Wang faly! Chin faly!”
As the gistrate contin