"I hope that you know, General Li, that the Huns have virtually disappeared since they were in the Imperial City," Chi Fu stated, punctuating his sentence with a flick of his brush. A dot of ink landed on Shang's chin, which he promptly brushed off. He was too refined a man to growl, but was not beneath glaring at the Emperor's council.

"Yes, the last report I received informed me. Their whereabouts will be known when they want them to be known," Shang replied, trying not to eye the exit. "Do not underestimate Shan Yu; he has trained his soldiers well."

"Yes, yes, General, but intelligence reports have indicated that the Japanese are quiet as well along the Northern border."

"And?"

"A Japanese scout was captured there, of course. He killed himself before he could be interrogated," Chi Fu said, as if everyone knew what he was saying. General Li processed the information. If the Japanese were moving along the Northern border, they would be close, if not in, Mongolian territory. The Huns had to know if there was a covert Japanese takeover of Mongolia. No, the Japanese were too short on manpower to take on the Huns. So what could it be?

"General Li? Are you listening?" an irritated council asked rhetorically, hands on hips.

"Mmmm? Yes, of course," Shang replied distractedly. "Anything else, council?"

Only a 'hmph' and a pause of the constantly moving brush was Chi Fu's answer.

"Dismissed, Council Chi."

The small man nodded and turned to leave, blue robe spinning around him like it was too big for his bony frame. When he reached the entrance, he stopped briefly to throw one last haughty remark: "General Li, I don't know what your father would think if he saw you being so..." he searched for the word, "friendly...with your soldiers." A smirk and a second later, he was gone.

"Chu, stop leaning to the left when you try to balance; you'll join the fishes soon if you keep it up," Major Fa barked at a new recruit. She was standing on one beam in a line of thirty that the troops were training on. Dark water lapped at the base of each beam, a good ten feet below where the major was standing. She was in a bitter mood, worried and irritated about what Chi Fu had talked to Shang about. She had not been able to get a word alone with him for a week, not since a new wave of recruits had come in from the southeast region.

The Imperial Army stationed at the coast was at five hundred fully trained soldiers with three hundred new recruits. In a year's time, there would be at least two thousand. Mulan shuddered at the thought of more recruits. It was tiring, (and hazardous to her health) whenever she had to rescue a green soldier from the turbulent waters, or out of an arrow's path, or from a cliff's edge. She would rather be fighting Huns than dealing with the new wave of discrimination from these men.

'Or rather, boys,' she thought as a defiant Chu plunged into the water. Major Fa shook her head, signaled for the other recruits to hold their ground, and dove in after him. She reemerged, dragging him to the dock that was twenty feet away. Chu was a bit dazed, unable to swim on his own. By the time Mulan got him to the dock, she was tired and needed a few of the trained soldiers to help them scramble up. Chu stumbled to his feet, glaring at Mulan briefly. He thought vile thoughts of how a woman had rescued him, not giving her so much as a thank you. Mulan watched him go before squeezing the water out of her hair, a bit taken aback but not surprised by his behavior.

Chu had been the bane of the camp thus far, snidely ignoring her orders and refusing to acknowledge her. He had come up with the recent wave from the Southeast, and rallied others from the region to protest Mulan's position in the army. So far, he had little success, since most of the newbies had heard of the legendary Mulan from the Imperial City, and dared not challenge her authority. If she could stop the Hun army, she could definitely stop a few chauvinistic Chinese men.

Mulan rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the water droplets there. She hardened her face and stood tall towards her group of trainees. 'Back to work,' she thought as she returned to the group.

Yao squinted through his one good eye at the approaching clouds from the ocean. He nostalgically admired the sea, remembering his childhood near it. It was good to feel the salty air on his skin again, and nothing compared to the sandworn feeling in his bones when a storm was approaching. He had that feeling now, as the clouds were thick and gray, soon covering the midday sun.

Yao's thoughts wandered as he watched a single shore bird struggle with the increasing winds. 'So alone, yet you still fight to fly,' he reminisced. It reminded him of something, and he could not help but hope that the bird would never fall.

A feminine figure in the dark balanced precariously on a beam, hands whispering through the air delicately and silently. She took a step back on the beam, feeling for it with her foot, controlling every motion with precision and grace. She performed a back walkover, then prepared to flip off the beam. Jumping high into the air, she curled into a tight ball, straightening out at the last moment. 'Still got it,' she thought.

A sound, a rustle of a leaf.

The woman did not move until she could feel a powerful presence behind her. A sword was pressed gently against her stalker's neck in the blink of an eye.

"State your name and purpose, intruder, you are in my territory," she said, her voice sweet and false, dripping with feigned innocence.

The massive figure whose life was in jeopardy did not flinch as she moved the sword along his neck. His glowing yellow eyes watched her in amusement.

"My name is not important." She pressed the sword a little harder, enough to break skin. A bead of crimson blood trickled down and settled in the hollow of his collarbone. He moved in an angry flash, disarming her. "But I have a proposition for you."

"Good night, General Li," a young recruit ventured, a shy smile and faltering salute upon his countenance. Shang turned to bid the young fellow a good night with a gentle smile, even though he did not know whom he was. Mulan noted this from the darkness of her tent, another merit to add to her mental list for the general. She smiled sadly as she watched Shang pass her tent, not daring to breathe. She released her breath after a safe time interval, leaning against the flimsy wall and sliding down. Mulan leaned her head back, letting her unbound hair slither down the wall.

Her thoughts reluctantly turned to one man. He had been distant lately, and for the life of her, she could not figure out why. One moment he was her best friend, and the next he was a stranger. When she really thought about it, she knew Shang like an old friend that she hadn't seen in years. She knew the way he looked to the moon, lost in thought, but she never knew what he was thinking about. She could read his emotions like a book, but she still felt she didn't know the title of the story. She had saved his life, and he had spared hers, but she knew nothing about him. She didn't know about his family, his shames, his sufferings. She only knew that he had been steadily shutting her out, locking her in a protective box since he had found her out in the Tung Shao Pass so long ago.

Mulan sighed, wiping at her moist eyes. She felt so...alone without him. She didn't know why; she had Ling, Yao, and Chien Po to start with. She was relatively well liked by the soldiers, with the occasional bad fruit like Chu. But Shang was different, because he meant something different to her. Of course he talked to her, had personal training sessions, even shared jokes and fun with her. But something was missing that had been there before. She had felt a special bond with him in the Imperial City, and at the Wu Zhong camp, but not now. Their camaraderie returned to as it was before, like between a commander and subordinate, captain and soldier. Two men, no biases, no special treatment. Then two friends, two people who trusted each other. Now their relationship balanced precariously, fitting in neither category, and that was what left Mulan feeling frustrated and alone. She didn't know what she wanted, and knew that not everything in life fit in neat little boxes.

But if only her feelings for Shang were a neat little package that she could hide under the bed. They manifested themselves at the most inopportune times, like when he was asking her a question; Mulan would be at a loss for words. Her mind would focus on the deep clarity of his voice, strong and firm, or the movement of his lips as they formed words she wasn't listening to.

It was too late, she realized. She had fallen for him already, admiring him at first for his physical beauty and powerful presence, and now for his strength of will and noble heart. She had become so enraptured that she no longer knew what it was like not to love him. No, he could never know of her true feelings. Although not the epitome of tradition, Mulan was not one to be forward with her feelings. Too long the principles of tradition and domesticity had been grilled into her, that it took conscious effort for her to overcome the feminine expectations. She would try not to reveal herself, and uphold the family honor like her father had said. She would, could, try.

"I wonder if you ever think about me," General Li Shang mused to the beautiful figure: the moon. A moonlit sketch of his father appeared and vanished, a memory of from when he was a young boy. "Do you watch over me?" The moon replied only with a slight breeze from the nearby sea. It was answer enough for him. He took one last look at the moon before climbing down from his perch on the rocky cliff. The moon was a few hours away from setting over the ocean, a time that Shang usually spent in quiet brooding. But tonight he decided to resume his vigil of a certain major, something he had not done since they had left the Wu Zhong camp a lunar cycle ago.

Shang crept into her tent, sitting on a stool she kept. She was shivering under her blanket, curled into a ball in one corner of her bed. Crystal tears sprouted beneath her sooty lashes, unwilling to part with her eyes until the weight forced them down her face. Shang caught himself reaching to wipe away the single tear, and withdrew his hand cautiously. 'Not yet, she can't know.' It pained him to see her cry, to not be able to comfort her. He didn't know why he decided to visit her tonight, or any other night for that matter. He would watch her sleep fitfully, tossing turning, whimpering, and making other sounds of distress. Never words, not yet. Somehow it made him feel like his problems didn't exist, that all that mattered was her peaceful sleep. It made him feel close to her when she was so open, so vulnerable. She wasn't laughing or joking or talking, covering for something painful inside. Shang wished desperately to take away the hurt, but was too afraid to reveal himself.

Mulan buried herself deeper under her covers, shaking like a frightened animal. Soft words, pleas left her parted lips. Shang only noticed a stray bit of hair fall over her forehead. Mulan was so fascinating, so different from the made up and witless courtiers he had met, or the gossiping women of his mother's generation. He had never met a girl, a woman, he corrected himself, quite like her. He could not politely decline her like the girls his mother had tried to match him up with, nor could he ignore her idle chat like he did to the loose-tongued matriarchs of the kingdom. She was special.

She played by her own rules, yet could do no wrong in his eyes. She was smart, strong, independent, yet could falter at the slightest disapproval or reprimand. She was a child, a woman, a damsel, a heroine, innocent, and a sage. She was everything.

The tears stopped, the look of fear gone. Shang's smile reached his eyes when she snuggled in the covers, this time because of contentment. She hugged what looked like a toy dragon a bit closer, and Shang couldn't help but be amused at the novelty.

His watch was finished for the night. He could sleep now, comforted with the thought of her rest. Shang got up slowly, silently approaching the entrance. A faint whisper, so faint he thought he imagined it, reached him.

"Thank you, Shang."

"Four more Japanese Scouts on the northern border, General. Four more suicides," Chi Fu said, the perpetual smug smile never leaving his face.

"Four? They really must be planning something," Shang mused, one hand rubbing his chin.

"Perhaps they are hiding something. A surprise? Hehe." Chi Fu forced a laugh and continued to ramble on his own accord. Shang paid him no mind as thoughts whirled and connections strained.

"Shang!" A gasping Ling entered the tent. "Shang, urgent message from the emperor." The lanky man said between breaths. He hastily fumbled for the scroll in his pocket, almost dropping it when he handed it to his superior. His usual mischievous smile was gone, his jaw slack from exertion.

General Li perused the document rapidly. His eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed, and his mouth was set in a grim line. He crushed the paper with his fingers, turning away from the two other occupants of the tent. Both watched the young general's face harden, eyes old beyond his years. Neither could contain their fear at his solemn announcement.

"Shan Yu lives."