Reverence

Chapter 1

The forest was still. Only the rustle of a chill autumn breeze shifted the shadowy leaves in the darkened woodlands. A full moon sat perched, bird-like, high among the branches of a gnarled old oak and skittering shadows were the only signs of the night's creatures coming out to play. A single pair of eyes, dark as the velvet sky, watched the undergrowth, scanning for danger. The Warrior knelt, legs folded beneath her upon a large outcropping of rock, carefully waiting. Her ears were keen and pricked to any danger, senses sharpened by training and tempered by years of war.

Armor of the finest tooled leather and plate was supple, dark, and sleek in the ethereal moonlight. The blood red designs reflected scrawling images of dragons and swirling sigils. Though the gear had seen many winters, it was still in immaculate condition: a sign of the wearer's care and attention to detail. A naked sword sat flat upon her lap, free from its scabbard. Its blade honed to razor sharpness, glinting coldly in the light of the stars.

Dark hair, smooth as oiled satin, pulled into an elaborate ponytail cascaded down her back. Metal circlets kept it swept high and out of the way, lest the midnight-colored tresses impede her stealth and skill in the fervor of battle.

The distant stars of her ancestors seemed empty and cold as they gazed down from on high. Watching, as the 'Greatest Warrior in all of China' undertook her latest self-appointed duty of nocturnal sentry. Her breathing was slow, controlled, and even. Her mind was centered on the task at hand. Meditation and focus brought keen alertness to the senses of the battle-tested Mulan as she kept her solitary nightly watch.

Far off an owl hooted balefully.

The forest was a very lonely place. She thought. Not unlike the world itself.

She breathed in, steady, through her nose, trying to center herself and seal away the memories that tugged mockingly at the edges of her consciousness. The whispered tendrils of thought came unbidden anyway, breaking through her mind's hard blockades, and hatefully replaying in broken shards in her mind's eye.

"When she wakes…we don't tell her everything, yes?" Phillip whispered, his dark eyes pleading silently for her discretion. A silent nod was all she could muster at the time, a hard lump swelling in the Warrior's throat. He was a man she respected, a man she had protected, and perhaps even loved…but she had always known his heart belonged to another…someone she could never be.

An old song somehow found its way to her lips.

"Look at me…I will never pass for a perfect bride. Or a perfect daughter…"

The old lyrics rang hateful and callously true. Mulan clenched her jaw, ignoring the pain, and running her fingers delicately over the filigree of her sword hilt. She had never been the woman her parents had wanted. Never the submissive bride, nor the classic lotus-blossom beauty sought by the men and matchmakers of the land. She had always been headstrong.

Her destiny, she'd known, was more than simply pouring tea. She'd taken matters into her own hands when given the opportunity. Stolen her father's armor, both to protect her family and to prove that she could be far more than they'd said. Hungry to show she was as good as any son her father had ever wanted.

When she'd returned, almost a year and a half later, she's been initially welcomed with open arms and praised. Her bravery was lauded, and tales of her prowess as a Warrior brought great honor to her family…but, as with all things, that had lasted only a few short seasons. As the lotus-blossoms upon the trees died, so did the prestige attributed to the name Fa-Mulan.

People did not often take kindly to change…and even less so to the bold deeds of a lowly woman questioning hundreds of years of tradition. The Emperor may have pardoned her, but the hard gazes of the townsfolk were far more condemning.

Foolish braggarts and jealousy had fueled the embers of hate in the hearts of some of the men in her village into bitter words and deeds. Jealousy soon turned to scornful spitting remarks, and hate shifted easily to threats, before Mulan had decided to pack her gear and saddle her horse. She had run away to war to save her family, and again-she realized-she would have to run to spare them the disgrace that her 'uncouth and womanly deeds' had brought.

She had ridden alone a long time, hiding herself in taverns and way-houses, living as a vagabond until she'd happened to meet her Prince.

Sheer happenstance and fortune had been with her that day, and she'd chanced to see a young man being accosted on the road by bandits… little did she know that by defending the scruffy-looking fellow, she had inadvertently saved a Prince of royal lineage. From that day forth, she and Philip had become fast friends.

He spoke with her freely, as an equal, and she genuinely enjoyed his company. He did not ask about her past and she, in turn, did not ask of his. One thing he did share, though, was his valiant quest in search of his love.

"She is the song of my heart." He would say, grinning crookedly. "I have never met a woman whom I loved so dearly as my Aurora. She is everything a man could want…beauty and grace." And his eyes would mist over and grow distant as he pondered the face of his love.

"Perhaps someone could find me beautiful…" Mulan would think, watching her companion sigh and moon over a face only he could see. "…Perhaps someday you could love me that way."

But her honor and respect for Phillip as a man, and her duty to respect the yearnings of his heart, had kept her tongue still and her thoughts as distant fantasies.

The whisper of leaves and snapping of undergrowth tore Mulan from her reveries. Something big was close, and stalking towards her in the shadowy woods. The wanderings of her mind had kept her from detecting the presence sooner. Fear and fury thrilled simultaneously through her veins. She turned towards the sound, rising to her feet in a flash, sword in hand and a savage scowl on her face.

"Who's there? Show yourself." She snarled; muscles corded and taught like coiled springs.