Chapter Text
It had been raining the entire night before and well into the next morning, leaving a running current of mud down the trail. The platoon had been walking for hours, making steady headway against the freezing wind and the sleet on their faces, and Mulan could barely keep up.
No matter how fast she walked, it seemed that she was always taking one step forward just as the others had already taken three. She couldn’t help it. Her armor wasn’t enough to block out the cold, and her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering under her helmet, which felt frozen to her rain-slicked hair. And the muddy, slippery ground kept sucking at her shoes with every heavy step she took, staining her leggings down to the skin.
She paused as her foot sank through the mud. Frowning, she reached down and yanked.
But it went right back down into the mud anyway.
“Mulan, come on!” Mushu scurried down and started pulling. Next to him, Cri-Kee did the same thing. “I know ya got shorter legs, but keep up!”
“Hey, it’s not something I can help, alright?” Mulan grimaced as she finally yanked her leg out, the mud having turned her formerly white stocking brown. With a soft chirp, Cri-Kee retrieved the shoe that had come off and carefully fitted it back onto her foot.
“Thanks, Cri-Kee.” Mulan stood up carefully, and took one more step. Then a second, a third—
Until she sank again, this time with a groan of dismay as the mud swallowed her up to the chest.
“Oh, for the love of the ancestors!” Mushu slapped his forehead in exasperation, then took Mulan’s arm and yanked. “Hey, I need a little help here!”
Cri-Kee dutifully got on Mulan’s other side, tiny legs shaking as he tried to pull her out. Mulan sighed and wriggled around, trying to push herself up. She might as well have sunk in a cup of heavy teabags, because the mud wouldn’t stop sucking her in.
“You gotta hurry, or Mr. Bigshot and all his men will leave you behind and—” Mushu paused, then scuttled away with Cri-Kee into the back of her collar. Mulan looked up at the sound of voices, blinking rain out of her eyes. In the fog that had set in over the muddy trail, it was hard to make out the silhouettes of the other soldiers. They’d already left her behind, their voices growing faint.
But now they were growing louder again, and three familiar faces emerged from the rainy fog. Ling’s voice rang out with concern. “Ping? Hey, Ping! What happened?”
“Looks like the mud’s got ya,” Yao noted. “Need a little help?”
“Yes,” Mulan said bluntly. “I could use just—uh— a little.”
“Allow me,” Chien Po said serenely. He leaned forward and effortlessly lifted Mulan up by the armpits, pulling her free of the mud. She tried to steady herself…
…only to sink right back in again.
“Dang, looks like it’s not lettin’ you go!” Ling scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe if all three of us—”
“What seems to be the problem?”
Mulan’s heart did an involuntary somersault, as it so often did at the sound of his voice. Shang rode up, his horse stepping carefully across the pitch-black mud that contrasted with its stark white coat.
“I’m—I’m a little stuck, sir,” Mulan managed, carefully moving her arms to avoid flailing. She wanted to kick herself at how whiny she sounded.
“I see.” Shang swung himself off of his mount, then walked slowly forward. The mud lapped at his shoes as he leaned in, and Mulan’s breath caught in her throat at the brush of his hands over her arms.
Carefully, Shang gripped her underarms and tugged her free to dislodge her from the mud. Mulan could feel herself shaking, not just from the cold, as she immediately stumbled forward and right back onto the solid ground of the trail. More mud dripped from her thighs and streamed down her knees.
Mulan smiled up at Shang. Her heart gave a jump of delight at the returning smile on Shang’s lips, a tiny but unmistakable curve.
She licked her lips, her mind frantically searching for a response. Say something. Anything. “Thank you, sir. I—”
“You’re needed at the front, Captain!” Chi Fu's shrill tone cut in. He rode up next, glaring at Shang. “And that means not holding up your men by going back for some…”
His lip curled with disdain. “Some weakling who can't keep up.”
Shang’s mouth twitched downward into a scowl, his smile gone as quickly as it’d arrived, and Mulan’s heart sank. “Ping is a good soldier, Chi Fu. You shouldn’t disrespect him.”
“Every soldier is a ‘good soldier’ to you,” Chi Fu sneered. “You wouldn’t know an actually competent one if he smacked you on the nose.”
With a haughty harrumph, he turned and his horse trotted away. Shang only rolled his eyes in response.
“Geez, what bit him in the rear?” muttered Ling.
“Forget him. Get back on the trail.” Shang’s tone was now curt. He turned back to Mulan, and—was that concern in his eyes, or was she only seeing what she wanted to see? It was so hard to tell with her captain, sometimes. “Are you sure you can keep up, Ping? I don’t want you sinking on the trail again.”
“Um—yes, I c-can.” Mulan was glad her teeth weren’t chattering too much. “Thank you for asking, sir.”
“Here.” Before Mulan could react, Shang hooked his fingers into the knot of his cape and pulled. The red cloak came loose easily, and he pulled it around her shoulders and carefully tied it to fit. Mulan blinked rapidly, heart hammering so painfully in her chest that it was almost all she could hear. “Wear this. Give it back to me once we’re off the trail.”
She could only stare at him. What could she say to that? The cape felt warm around her shoulders in a way that had nothing to do with the fabric. “Sir, I—”
“Don’t worry about staining it. I can clean it later.” Without looking back, Shang pulled himself back up onto his horse and headed back toward the front of the troop. Mulan could only watch him go, barely aware of the surprised looks Yao, Ling, and Chien Po were sending her way.
Finally, Yao whistled. “Look at you, Ping! The captain really likes ya. Movin’ up in the world.”
“Yeah! You get to wear his cape, how cool is that!” Ling gave Mulan a grin and a hearty slap on her now cape-covered back, which thankfully didn’t make her stumble. “Put in a good word for me with him. You, me, Yao, Chien Po—we four could use all the extra help we can get out here!”
Mulan smiled shakily. “I’ll try.”
“That’s the spirit!”
Once Yao, Ling, and Chien Po had their backs turned to her, lost in their own conversation again, Mulan heard Mushu’s muttering in her ear. “Hey, get movin’.”
“What?” Mulan blinked a drop of rain out of her eyes again, her gaze fixed on Shang’s silhouette far ahead.
“Get movin’ and stop oglin’ Captain Dreamboat!” Mushu hissed, and Mulan had to repress a snicker before she continued to walk. The rain and fog still weren’t going to let up any time soon, and the mud was soaking through to her shoes and right to her feet. She’d never been colder and more uncomfortable in her life.
But the red cape around her shoulders still felt wonderfully warm.