Mulan nodded, but her mouth felt clumsy and numb. Why was she as mute as a gaping fish? Words had always come easily before—too easily, as they usually burst out of her mouth before she could stop them. Ma often despaired of her, and Mulan had tried many times to be as quiet as Xiu. But she had never been able to, until now.
“I’m here to help you,” the woman said. “That rabbit has his points, but he’s quite limited. He doesn’t know mortals the way I do. Why, look at you, half-frozen! He doesn’t care about you!”
“No,” Mulan protested, the thought of the Rabbit loosening her words. “He sent me for wood so we could make a fire.”
“He sent you, shivering and cold,” the woman said, “into the forest—not worried if you got lost or if wild animals attacked. You poor thing! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
The woman waved her hand in an elegant gesture. Mulan followed her motion and saw a heap of wood on the ground. Mulan jerked in surprise, unsure if the magical woman in white had made the wood appear or if it had been there the whole time.
“Yes, it’s for you,” the woman said to Mulan’s astounded eyes. “Take it.”
Mulan quickly began to gather the wood into her arms. It made an awkward collection as the knobby sticks refused to pile evenly, jutting and shifting. When she finished, she saw the woman was still smiling at her as if highly entertained.
“I have another gift for you as well,” the beautiful woman said. From her sleeve, she took out a small glossy flask of creamy ivory. With a willowy movement, as if she were dancing in water, the woman stepped to Mulan. Her white hands whisked off the top and she brought the flask to Mulan’s face, a sweet aroma wafting.
“Honey,” the woman said. She dipped a long, slender finger into the flask. “Your rabbit might use it for medicine, but I think you should savor its sweetness.”
She brought her finger toward Mulan’s mouth, the honey clinging like golden dew. The fragrance seemed to encircle them, and Mulan was swathed by perfume and light. She suddenly felt lost in its splendor, as if floating on rushing water. Spellbound, Mulan raised her face, awaiting the anointment of the honey on her lips.
But before the white finger could reach her, a stick dropped from the clumsy bundle in her arms. Its bulbous knot struck her foot sharply, and Mulan yelped, jerking back. More sticks escaped, clattering to the ground with the clumping sound of an ox.
Mulan hurried to gather the fallen wood, catching a flash of annoyance on the woman’s face. The enchanted moment was broken, and Mulan found herself clutching the wood tightly. But when Mulan looked up, the woman was smiling at her again. She laughed another tinkling bell laugh.
“Here,” the woman said, slipping the flask into Mulan’s sleeve. “You can enjoy it later.”
Mulan nodded, the strange muteness coming over her again.
“You’d best go now,” the woman said, “or the Rabbit might actually worry about you. But I will see you again.”
Mulan, arms full, bobbed a farewell like a humble peasant to his lord. What is wrong with me? she thought, mystified by her own behavior. She was filled with uncomfortable feelings of shyness and timidity—feelings she had never quite felt before.
“If you need me,” the woman said, “just call for me and I will come.”
Mulan stopped and turned. “What should I call you?” she asked, forcing the words from her lips.
The woman smiled again, so radiant that it dazzled Mulan even from this distance. “You may call me Daji.”
HIDDEN IN the shadows, underneath the falling leaves and crooked trees, she could feel herself trembling. She told herself it was fatigue—scuttling about and gathering all the fallen branches in the forest for Daji had been exhausting. But deep down, she knew it was not the labor of collecting wood that made her shudder. It was the honey.
She remembered that honey. The golden drop like a pendant of amber hanging from Daji’s finger, glistening and glowing. The soft brush against her lips, the overwhelming sweetness, the sticky syrup clinging to her lips—she remembered all of it.
And just like this girl—this girl who was now disappearing into the falling darkness, stumbling with all the wood—she, too, had seen Daji as a goddess. So beautiful, so graceful and kind. I’ll take care of you, Daji had said to that girl. Daji had said those same words to her, as well, long ago. How long ago had it been? All she could remember was the intoxicating feeling that had overwhelmed her. To be taken care of meant to be wanted. And how she had yearned for that! She hated when they called her the Unwanted Girl. But that was before she found out what they would call her as Daji’s servant.
“The girl’s gone!” Daji snapped. “Come here!”
She crept from the cover of the trees, keeping her copper-colored fox head bowed.
“I want to talk to you!” Daji said impatiently.
She willed the sickening feeling in her stomach to burst through her blood as she transformed, her black hair streaming from her head as her pointed fox nose melted into a human face. In a moment, she was kneeling before Daji, just as she had when she’d been as young as the girl who left a moment ago.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said.
“The girl didn’t eat the honey,” Daji said in annoyance. “She’s such a clumsy ox, I couldn’t place it on her lips.”
“Yes, Mistress,” she repeated. She knew Daji didn’t really want to talk to her. Daji just wanted someone to unleash her temper on.
“But the bottle will keep her quiet enough,” Daji said grudgingly. “Yes, the girl will taste it soon. I will simply have to bide my time.”
She nodded, unwilling to repeat herself a third time.
“Though it is time that I must not let them have,” Daji said thoughtfully. “I will have to slow them down.” Then Daji looked sharply at the woman before her.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said, swallowing her sigh. She had learned long ago not to offer suggestions or voice any opinions. They were never wanted or needed and usually resulted in a scathing insult or a box of the ears.
“Come!” Daji ordered, clapping her hands. “You have things to prepare for me.”
Daji waved her sleeve, and as it swirled in the air, she changed into the White Fox, her tails swaying.
She had no choice but to follow, returning to her own red fox form. But for the first time in a long time, she felt a resentful wave rush inside her. I am not just your servant. I have a name, she thought. I am Xianniang.
WITH THE wood she’d been given, Mulan was soon able to sit at a crackling fire, sipping a concoction brewed by the Rabbit. Whatever it was, the drink warmed her from her toes to her vitals. She watched the sparks fly from the fire in what should have been reasonable comfort, but her buzzing thoughts made her uneasy. The strange encounter with the beautiful Daji had left Mulan puzzled and unsettled, as if she were being woken from an enchantment. She kept looking at the Rabbit, willing herself to tell him, but her lips stayed closed.
Her sleep that night was also uneasy, the small bottle of honey in her sleeve resting heavily in her head. Visions of a giant, attacking spider filled her dreams, and she found herself running through a river of honey in an attempt to get away. Just as the terrifying creature was about to catch her, Mulan woke up, gasping. She could still see the spider’s evil black eyes, the giant sharp teeth, the nine pointed white legs…Mulan straightened, a cold breeze brushing her face. This was Xiu’s spider! Mulan remembered Xiu’s lifelong fear of spiders—had Xiu been plagued by these same dreams? Her heart twisted as she thought of her sister, tormented. Poor Xiu! She was always so awestruck by Mulan’s daring. Not that it’s ever been something to be proud of, Mulan thought ruefully.