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Mulan sat behind Xiu, absent-mindedly brushing her sister’s long black hair. In front of her, the younger girl was quiet, lost in her thoughts. Mulan didn’t mind the silence. Her own brain was loud and busy enough. All she could see was her father’s look of disappointment. It haunted her like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from, making her feel shaky and uncomfortable. The last thing she would ever want to do was hurt her father. But she hadn’t had a choice. Or at least, that was what she kept telling herself. There was no way her father could have given chase, not with his weak leg. While her father may have been a hero in the war, his injury kept him from working as hard as he would like to in the village. Mulan had simply wanted to help.

And somehow, she seemed to have done just the opposite.

“Mulan?”

Xiu’s quiet voice interrupted Mulan’s dark thoughts. Her hand stopped, the brush hovering over Xiu’s hair as she waited to hear what her sister wanted to say.

“What happened when you fell off the roof?” Xiu asked.

Mulan didn’t need to question what Xiu meant. She had felt something�6�2.�6�2.�6�2. odd�6�2.�6�2.�6�2. as she fell through the air. Like somehow her mind had seen a step ahead and her body had known the moves it needed to make before she was even aware herself. But she wasn’t about to admit her thoughts out loud—especially to her younger sister. “I was chasing that naughty chicken,” she said instead as she resumed combing Xiu’s hair.

Beneath the comb, Xiu shook her head. “No,” she pressed. “When you slipped. For a moment it was like you were a bird�6�2.�6�2.�6�2.” The younger girl’s voice trailed off.

Mulan frowned, surprised by her sister’s astute observation. Xiu was right. She had felt like a bird. As she had swooped and swung around that beam, she hadn’t felt scared. She had felt alive. More alive than she had ever felt before. She had been like a bird soaring through the sky, playing on the wind. Not a clumsy chicken but a graceful bird of prey.

But how was that even possible? She hadn’t dared think about it until this very moment, but she knew that she had narrowly escaped getting hurt—or worse. Somehow, whatever that feeling inside her was, it had managed to save her. Which sounded strange. Which meant there was no way she was going to say it aloud to her sister, because Xiu would definitely think it was strange. So instead, Mulan changed the subject.

“Xiu,” she said, her hand growing still. “Don’t panic. But there’s a spider crawling in your hair.”

Xiu’s shoulders crept up toward her ears and she turned to look at Mulan, worry creasing her innocent face. “You know I’m afraid of spiders,” she said, her lower lip beginning to tremble. Then her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t one of your tricks, is it, Mulan?”

Mulan tried not to smile. “Don’t move,” she said. “If you hold very still, I will squash it�6�2.�6�2.�6�2.” Her voice trailed off as, from the room below, she heard her mother’s voice rise.

“You indulge her,” Li said, her loud voice carrying from the living room. Mulan and Xiu paused to listen. Closing her eyes, Mulan held her breath. She could picture her mother and father going through their nightly routine: her mother tidying up while her father slowly unlaced the binding on his leg. Only on this particular night, they were not going about it as quietly as they usually did.

“There’s no harm in herding chickens,” Zhou retorted.

Mulan heard the soft, even footsteps of her mother as the woman moved closer to her husband. “You know I’m not talking about chickens,” she went on. “I’m talking about her�6�2.�6�2.�6�2. her bold spirit. We can’t encourage it.”

“Mulan is young,” Zhou countered. “She’s still learning to control herself.”

Up in her room, Mulan bristled. She knew her father meant well, but he was talking about her as if she were an untamed filly, not his daughter. She shifted on her seat, wishing she could stop the conversation while at the same time curious to see where it would go. She didn’t have to wait long.

“You make excuses for her!” Li said, her voice laced with frustration. “You forget Mulan is a daughter, not a son. A daughter brings honor through marriage.”

“Any man would be fortunate to marry our Mulan,” Zhou said.

Hearing the certainty in her father’s voice, Mulan bit her lip. She wanted to be the girl he believed her to be. Maybe chasing that chicken had been a little bit reckless. And maybe she should have listened to her father when he told her to stop. But did her silly actions now really stand to ruin her marriage options in the future?

As if hearing her daughter’s thoughts, Li continued, “Xiu gives me no trouble. The Matchmaker will find a good husband for her.” Mulan didn’t have to be in the room to imagine the frown on her mother’s face or the way she nervously rubbed her temple. When she spoke again, her voice sounded sad, anguished. “It is Mulan I worry about. Always Mulan.” There was another pause, and then she continued, her voice almost impossible to hear: “I just don’t know where she fits in this world.”

The room below grew silent.

Mulan felt her sister’s eyes on her but she refused to lift her head. Instead, she stared down at the comb in her lap, rubbing anxiously at the bristles. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Was her mother right? Was there no place for her in the world? She slowly let out a shaky breath. She had never felt like she truly belonged among the other girls of the village, always the first one to end up in a mud puddle or rip the hem of her shirt. She had always felt more comfortable beside her father in the field than with her mother by the stove. Yet she had never thought that was wrong�6�2.�6�2.�6�2. until now.

“She doesn’t mean it,” Xiu said.

Mulan stayed silent. She wasn’t ready to speak. But her sister was nothing if not determined. “Tell me about the spider,” she pressed.

“There is no spider,” Mulan mumbled. She wasn’t in the mood for a game.

“How many legs does it have?” Xiu went on, ignoring her sister’s grumbles and frown.

Mulan sighed. “You know spiders have eight legs,” she answered, unable to stop herself.

“It’s not black, is it?” Xiu said, pretending to look frightened, as if a real spider were there and crawling toward her. She waited to see what Mulan would do, or say, next.