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By the time Mulan found a pair of boots that fit and training clothes that were only two sizes too big, it was growing dark. Walking out of the clothing tent, she searched for her assigned barracks. Each tent looked the same, and for a while, she wandered through the encampment, happy for the darkness and the solitude. After weeks of being alone, she realized she had grown used to the solitary sounds of the thoughts in her head and Black Wind’s hooves hitting the ground.

As she moved among the tents, she wrinkled her nose at the odd scents that filled the air. There was a distinct mixture of sweat, unwashed clothes, and undercooked meat. Even though she was hungry, the smell did little to entice her to fill her belly, instead making her queasy. Fires had been lit in front of the bigger tents, and soldiers stood around them, warming their hands, their booming voices all the louder in the stillness of the night.

Mulan sighed. She wanted desperately, in that moment, to be back in her family’s house, sitting with her sister. She wouldn’t even have protested if her mother tried to play with her unruly hair, twisting it and looping it as she mumbled to herself. Your hair is like you, Mulan, impossible to control, she would say. But her voice would be soft, and Mulan would feel her mother’s gentle fingers brush over her shoulders, silently adding,

I love you.

Shaking her head, Mulan pushed away the thoughts of home. They would do her no good. The monks had told her she had to act like a man. And men didn’t get weepy and sentimental. Spotting her assigned tent, Mulan slipped inside.

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t.

In front of her, men in various stages of undress joked and laughed with one another. Mulan’s face flushed and she felt her throat become dry. Two of the conscripts were trading playful punches while they argued over who should get the better sleeping platform. Another conscript was searching through his clothing, tossing things over his shoulder without care. There was a conscript sharpening his sword and another picking his teeth with the tip of a dagger.

Keeping her eyes down, Mulan made her way through the tent. Other than the soldiers, the tent itself was practically empty. The only furniture was the eight sleeping platforms that ran the length of the tent. Beside most of them were piles of clothing and equipment, thrown down by whatever soldier had claimed that platform. Spotting one of the last empty platforms, Mulan started toward it. But just as she was about to reach it, a conscript moved in front of her, his bare skin brushing Mulan’s fingertips.

Mulan stopped in her tracks.

A moment later, someone bumped into her.

Turning, Mulan bit back a groan. It was Cricket. And with him was Longwei. They returned her gaze, eyebrows raised. But before any of them could speak, the larger conscript that had been bullying them earlier appeared. He, like almost everyone else, was nearly naked. As he spotted the younger conscripts, a huge smile spread over his face. For a moment, it almost looked as though he were genuinely happy to see Cricket and Longwei, like they were long-lost friends. But then he grabbed them both in a headlock and pulled them into the growing ruckus caused by the rowdy conscripts.

Desperate to get as far from the chaos as she could, Mulan once again tried to get to the empty sleeping platform. But it seemed fate was not on her side, for just as she reached it, her eyes moved up and locked on Honghui. The handsome conscript was standing next to his friend, a man Mulan recalled another conscript calling Po.

“Look who’s here,” Po said, nudging Honghui.

For a moment, Mulan had a flash of hope that maybe Honghui would have forgotten about their earlier interaction and be ready to move on.

But then the conscript looked over at her. His expression darkened.

Or not,

Mulan thought. She knew that if Skatch and Ramtish had been there, they would’ve told her that a true man did not apologize. But the last thing Mulan needed was an enemy. The less attention she had on her, the better. With that in mind, she opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could, a loud voice boomed through the tent. Instantly, the conscripts stopped their roughhousing as all eyes turned toward the front entrance. Sergeant Qiang, their commanding officer, stood with his face in shadow.

“I told you to line up for showers!” he said, his tone angry.

“Showers?” Mulan repeated, panic flooding through her.

Sergeant Qiang nodded. “Showers! You lot stink!”

As the other conscripts filed out, ready to follow orders and eager to wash the stink off themselves, Mulan stood and fiddled with her armor. She couldn’t take a shower. Her secret would be out and she would be in serious trouble. But she would also be in trouble if she refused an order. She nervously played with her new shirt, picking at a loose hem. She had no choice. She was just going to have to run away. Take her things and hightail it back home and suffer the consequences. There was nothing else she could do�6�2.�6�2.�6�2.

“And I need a volunteer for night guard duty—”

Mulan didn’t hesitate. Her hand shot up in the air. “Me!” she said. Her voice was loud and she sounded way too eager for the mundane task. Lowering her hand she added, this time more calmly, “I mean, I volunteer, sir.” As she made her way over to the sergeant, she saw Honghui and Po share a look.

“Better keep an eye out,” Honghui warned, though he didn’t sound very concerned.