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greatly admired. “I was also in the tree. I was the first to lose my balance.”
    “What were you doing up there in the first place?” a second voice inquired. It was not as deep and powerful as the first, but it was still a voice that commanded attention.
    The second rider , I thought.
    “Nothing in particular,” Li Po said, but his voice was less certain now.
    This was not an outright lie. We hadn’t been doing anything in particular. Just talking. But even this was going to be difficult to explain. Girls and boys did not usually climb trees together—especially not when they’d reached our age.
    “A tree is an unusual place for doing ‘nothing in particular,’” the first rider observed. His horse shifted its weight once more. “You, in the stream, stand up,” he barked suddenly. “I want to get a better look at you.”
    This was the moment I’d been dreading. Be brave, Mulan , I thought. Don’t let him know that you’re afraid. Remember you are a soldier’s daughter .
    I stood up, trying to ignore the way water dripped from virtually every part of me. I stuck my chin out and squared my shoulders, actions I sincerely hoped would make me appear larger and braver than I actually felt. I was careful not to look into the nobleman’s face. Asking to look at me was not the same as giving me permission to return the gaze. Instead I kept my eyes fixed at a spot just over the man’s left shoulder.
    A strange silence seemed to settle over all of us. In it I could hear the voice of the wind and the song of the stream. I could hear the nobleman’s horse breathing through its great nose. I could hear my own heart pounding deep inside my chest. And I could hear my own blood rushing through my veins as if to reach some destination not even it had chosen yet. The blood that made me different, that set me apart from everyone else.
    Say something! Why doesn’t he say something? I thought. But it was the second rider who spoke up first.
    “What is your name, child?” he inquired.
    “I am called Mulan, sir,” I replied.
    “And your family name?” the first rider barked. His voice was strained and harsh.
    “Of the family of Hua,” I replied. “My father is the great general Hua Wei. He serves the emperor. And …” My voice trailed off, but I put my hands on my hips, planting my soaking feet more firmly in the stream. It was either this or start crying.
    “You’d better watch out,” I said stoutly. “If you hurt me, my father will track you down. Not that you’ll be able to. I’ll hurt you first, for I am not afraid of anyone!”
    “Nor should you be,” the second rider observed. “Not with the brave blood that flows through your veins.” My ears searched for but failed to find any hint of laughter in his voice.
    “Tell me something, Hua Mulan,” he went on. “What does your father look like?”
    “That is easy enough to answer,” I replied with a snort. I was no longer cold. Instead I was warm with a false bravado that made me reckless.
    “He looks just as a great general should,” I went on. “He is broad-shouldered and strong, and his eyes are as keen as a hawk’s. He has served the Son of Heaven well for many years. He has killed many Huns.”
    “Those last two are true enough, anyway,” the second rider said, and as abruptly as it had swelled, my heart faltered.
    He knows my father! I thought.
    The second rider spurred his mount forward until the two horses stood side by side. He reached over and clapped his riding companion on the back.
    “You should have come home sooner, my friend,” he said. “It would seem your daughter has grown into a son.”
    “Huh,” the first man said. It was a single syllable that could have meant anything, or nothing, but I was glad he said no more. I could hardly hear anything over the roar inside my head. “I have come home now,” he said. “That must be enough.”
    He guided his horse forward to where I stood frozen with astonishment, and then he