Growing Pains

Just get in the way? That's why? Humph!

Stuck in this stifling little tent, slouched over, waiting uselessly, helplessly. It was such a terrible feeling. Leaning back on this uncomfortable bed, all dressed up with nowhere to go, just waiting for the news. Not like it'd be anything new, anyways. It was going to be the usual expected same old, same old. The General goes, the General fights, the General…He damn well conquers, alright!

But yes, no reason to expect anything different this time around…Well, not anymore. To think there had been such high hopes for this day. Hopes that included riding alongside a great warrior…Two even! Maybe three! And going into the thrill and glory of the fight, just helping out, doing what was necessary to bring peace to this land. Just simple things any warrior, any leader would wish to do. Things these hands and the weapons they wielded, longed to do. Yet they sat her, wielder, weapon and all…Useless.

Such a waste…Why would a willing fighter be marooned in their tent instead of out there, fighting the good fight? Another keen blade, another sharp mind, another fine edge-wasn't that always a necessity on the front lines?

A dagger lay sheathed, resting on the soft silken sheets, just on the edge of where the bed's frame was now unnaturally curved downwards, a slight depression. The lithe figure that sat upon it felt the weight of such denial hanging heavy upon her shoulders, making her sink in even deeper.

A sword in its scabbard, a quiver full of arrows, a sturdy and sleek bow, finely made, crafted well and rather elaborately ornamented, possibly never intended by the maker and maybe even the purchaser to see battle. Weapons purely for ceremonies, entertainment and sport, they were. A gift of sorts and a warning as well against any further adventures with that weapon. Of course, its current possessor had other ideas, but today, those had been foiled.

Yes, there were many other things in the tent. It was a fine place, and fairly large too, for a temporary home, though, today it was rather deserted and desolate, deplete of the usual laughter and cheer that had adorned it in recent days. But these four items were all that mattered to the restless warrior, breathing heavily in the midst of the stillness, eying them, fiddling with them, and finally, laying them out in front of dangling feet, sandals having been tossed off to the side for comfort a while ago.

Nothing to do but wait, once more, like always, like every other time and every other campaign that had been conducted by that daring lord, and find out what had happened from tales of battlefield glory so sweet, so pure, that to listen to them trounced all poetry and music, all dance and drawing. Sure, every other time before, it had been a younger, more naive wait, a simple surety and faith, replaced by curiosity and wilfulness, and finally, impatience and eagerness to drink from the same cup, as siblings past had done.

Yet, that path had been so forcefully turned away, time and again, from this spirited combatant, for reasons so obvious to just about everyone but her.

Yes. Her.

Sun Shang Xiang slumped down even further, dull, dreary, disappointed, her usually cheery expression replaced, for the moment, by a silent resignation. She'd pushed the slight slip of a dream as far as it could go, as inconceivable as it was to actually become a reality. But yes, her main opposition had finally beaten her, right here, on the battlefield, and no, it wasn't in a fight or anything…Simply a lack of resources to conduct any more resistance. It had been quite the determined campaign from her since she'd gotten the idea years back, at a younger age, and all that training, hours spent with the bow and the blade, had culminated in this effort to force her way onto the field of honour.

Even getting caught after successfully sneaking off with the army had been a slight setback then, but now, she was separated from her closest allies, and best friends, her handmaidens, and out of contact with those she relied on. Under guard, kept away from harm, in her little tent, stuck in this sheltered, silent world she had been forcibly ensconced in. And so the fabled General had defeated her as well, may the Heavens curse his own stubbornness. Why did her parents just have to be so darn set upon stopping her? She knew why. They'd hoped it was a passing fancy that struck children. After all, having raised so many before her, what could go wrong with indulging her? But when it grew more and more serious…Then, all the worries started.

Fists clenched and opened as thoughts of all the discomfort and hassle she'd gone through to get here came through her head, only to meet with failure. She'd enjoyed all of it then, back when she'd thought she'd get a chance to someday put it to use, alongside her brothers, and those great men that followed her hero, her father. Now, it truly dawned upon her, had been shoved in her face, and rather irately too, that it had all been for naught. Her father had called it to her face as a simple amusement to him, something he'd provided her, simply to preoccupy her spirited personality during her spare time. Who'd ever heard of a woman being a warrior? Preposterous! What would have ever given her such an idea? Why, gosh, every darn day you let me keep at this amusement of mine!? Don't be silly. Of course, she would be a housewife. And so were dreams idly ground into dust.

Bruises and blister and sore aching muscles and raw inflamed flesh…Just about every unladylike affliction from such an unladylike hobby, as it seemed. But it wasn't a hobby…It hadn't been one for her. It had been simple training, for the big one, the first fight, the one she had expected to happen today. Yet, expectations felt drastically short of the reality, and so Shang Xiang returned once more to her situation, cooped up in a tent in the main camp of this veteran army.

She didn't want to be so aggravated, so hateful of the people who she respected and truly cared for. It was just…well, why couldn't they treat her the way she wanted to be treated, the way she figured she deserved to be treated. She wasn't some fragile maiden who would snap at the slightest hint of trouble, though if she did, didn't everybody have their rough times in the beginning too? Didn't they? Exactly what did Father truly feel when he, as the story went, leapt onto the Chang Jiang's shore to surprise some pirates and pretend he was leading a battalion to capture them?

Maybe thinking about the actual battle would calm her down. It was really a fairly simple plan, for a fairly straightforward battle that would cap off a rather direct campaign. Having shattered the established defences of the enemy, the armies of Yuan Shu, had, under her father's command, now laid siege to Jing Zhou, better known by its name as Xiang Yang, before it became Liu Biao's capital. Soon, it would be over, and another tale be added to the growing legend of the Tiger of Jiang Dong, while the younger Yuan would be closer to besting the elder.

If only they would let her be part of that legend. She didn't even want her own tale, just a share of the glories that had fallen upon the Sun clan, one not seen since the days of Sun Tzu and Sun Bin. Oh sure, she could have a share as the demure princess, a silent beauty in the background, but that was too dull a life. Besides, looking pretty came naturally to a well-born maiden like her. Frustrated maids would even claim she went out of her way to mar her looks, what with all the hurts and scrapes and strains she had put herself through, plus that terrible short boyish haircut she insisted on for practicality, when she pushed training just a little bit too far. But she didn't care. She wanted battle, for that would be glory earned!

The silence was broken. There was a slight commotion outside of some sort. Shang Xiang's head rose, pondering this. Was this a chance for her to escape the safety of prison, maybe? Maybe it was a chance to contribute and do something worthwhile even. The young girl slipped on her sandals and stood up, fixing her head band and making sure her clothes hadn't been ruffled up too much by her earlier tantrum and subsequent sulking…Yeah, that was probably not the best way to prove she was ready for this, huh? Ah well, now she was. Hopefully.

Putting a light, silk covered, decorative leather cuirass over the short, revealing top she wore for mobility in training, she hung the straight jian blade on her back going one way, with her quiver going over it and poking out over the other shoulder, criss-crossing the straps in front of her slim body, one still caught between a woman and a child, but rapidly leaning towards the former, and stunningly so. She tucked the dagger into her yellow silken leggings around her knees, and then finally grasped that elegant bow of hers, almost as long as the short young lass was tall, and grinned, finding herself facing a long mirror, brushing the short skirt out to its full length. Tightening the tough girdle around her waist, she started on steady stride to the doorway. Well, now to see if she could get out of here. Shouldn't be too hard if she put her mind to it, was what she figured.

Quietly, she stalked up to the entryway, emboldened at every step. Fools! Leaving her these weapons? Sure, supposedly, it was out of respect for her wishes, but hah, they'd just underestimated how far she'd go for a fight. She played the scene over and over in her head, in the mere moments before she would leap out and smack the hard wood of her bow over a guard's head, knocking him out, and then use his falling form to push up and smash the guard on the other side in the face with a swift kick to the jaw. Then, she would run through the lines of tents…Out the gates, off to war!

Yeah…it was a really basic, and childish idea, but what else could really be expected of a young teen? Then again, considering another such plan had snuck her onto the Yuan army's wagon train, maybe it would work out…somehow. She was about to go for it, but stopped, finding herself rather chilled by the wind coming through the entrance. After all, a fair bit of her was still bare, the tawny skin exposed to the gusty breeze, especially her arms. The lady retreated slightly to grab a red embroidered jacket, with a flashy, translucent white collar that obscured her thin neck. It was one that would match the orange and yellow silk that decorated her cuirass, or so she figured. And then, she once more waltzed up to the entrance, and prepared to lash out with a primal fury. Taking one foot back, her frame tensed up, ready to spring.

It went by in a blur, and in moments, Shang Xiang found her soft posterior landing ungracefully on the hard ground. It wasn't due to fierce resistance, or unexpected preparedness or a fault in her assault upon the guards. Simply that she hadn't figured on the fact that there weren't any guards outside her tent at all. Flustered, and a little dizzy, the girl hopped to her feet and brushed her skirt clean, quite miffed at the fact that nobody had been stopping her exit all along. Ugh, and what was that smell!? Like one of her attempts at organizing a banquet preparation that had gone awry when her daydreaming of martial feats interfered with the carefully listed stove times for the dishes in their respective recipes…

Blinking a couple of times, she realized exactly where her guards had gone. One obviously didn't ignore an inferno that would engulf one's tent, general's orders or not…