Chapter Thirty Two: Tears

The rest of the day, we march in silence. There are no more cheerful songs of a girl worth fighting for or corny jokes about Huns, just a thick fog of grief and worry. Most men seem to have given up hope. It is quite obvious that the Huns are more powerful than us; they literally obliterated the entire Imperial Army for goodness sakes!

I feel numb, but it's not from the cold. When we make camp that night, I barely feel the ground beneath my feet. Men gather around small campfires, whispering fearfully. I don't remember picking up the flask. I don't remember walking into my tent. But, that is where I find myself, curled in the corner of my tent, a shaky hand holding the half-empty flask of strong drink. I think of all the lives lost today, all of the soldiers and civilians sprawled out in the snow. I think of Meixiu and Heng. I think until my chest is so tight with horror and grief that I can think no longer, and I simply stare at my reflection in the metal of the flask. Is this what I've become? A soldier so broken beyond repair that the only way I know to solve my problems is to drink?

I hear a rustling of tent flaps and look up to see Mushu. When he spots me he hurries over, his brow creased with worry.

"By gods, Mulan!" he whispers before sitting on the ground next to me. I lean on him as if I have no strength left. With one hand he takes the flask from me, then wraps his arm around my shoulders. "I saw Meixiu… You wanna talk?" he asks tentatively. I don't want to talk. In fact, I feel as if this is something I will never be able to talk about. Yet, I find everything pouring out before I have a chance to stop myself.

"She didn't do anything! She never wanted a war! She probably didn't even know what was going on! They killed her! They killed all of them! Slaughtered them! Like-like animals!" I lose control quickly and find myself sobbing against Mushu's shoulder as I continue to mumble incoherently about the dead villagers. 'Get a grip!' I scold myself. I thought I had gotten over this sort of thing long ago. I thought I had steeled myself enough to not let it hurt. When I saw that village, though, something cracked inside of me.

We sit there a while longer, and at some point, tears begin to fall from Mushu's cheeks too. We cry for the dead. We cry for the children who will never see adulthood, the children who spent their final moments on this Earth in fear and pain. We cry for the soldiers who will never see home again and for their families who have lost a son, brother, or father. Crying never solved anything though. Finally, I stop the tears and get my breathing under control. I rise on shaky legs and wipe my eyes. Mushu follows suit. I take a deep breath and close my eyes momentarily before turning to him.

"My father used to tell me 'The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.'"

Mushu nods as he receives the silent message behind those words. From now on, we fight not just for our families, but for the people in that village. Meixiu is quite literally our girl worth fighting for.