Chapter 8: Stand Tall Like a Mountain

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The trek had been steady, if somewhat tense. The platoon kept a respectable distance from the Jin Zai soldiers, and in return the Jin Zai stayed quiet and stoic.

Except for one.

"So, Ping, how're your parents? Your old grandmother, in particular." Fuu chatted on, clueless about the icy daggers Shang threw him. Fuu had insisted that Ping travel beside him at the front of the line in order to talk with him. "I always liked that women. She had a tongue like a knife, I'll tell you what."

"Yes, she's…good. Still her old self, and all that," Ping shifted uncomfortably on Khan as Mushu coiled around his neck. "A few months ago she practically threw an old geezer out of our store single-handedly without even touching the man." A smile came over his face. "He tripped out the door and fell into a cart of manure in front of a gaggle of girls."

Fuu returned a foxlike grin. "Your grandmother did always say that shitty men should smell the part."

Ping was unaware of the visible vein forming on Shang's temple as the pair's laughter reached his ears.

Said captain turned his head and gave Fuu a steady glare.

"Captain Fuu. How far till we reach our destination?"

"It should be just over this peak," Fuu replied, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the white glare of the landscape. Though they were far from the top or any altitude that restricted their breath, the snow was thick and the air was much colder than it had been on Juu's land.

Ping shivered a bit as the wind and rubbed his arms, wondering why no-one had thought of lining their armor with fur. Shang noticed.

"Keep steady, Fa Ping. Shelter is before us."

As their horses crested the rise Ping could see the outline of a small town, picking out individual houses short and sturdy against the frosty gale.

"Yes, Captain," Ping answered diligently, trying to hide the warmth or friendliness from his voice. If Fuu's raised eyebrow was anything to go by, he did a poor job of it.

Rin village was a small town, even smaller than the one Ping grew up in. As the branch of the army moved down the main trail Ping cast wary eyes on the few people still living there. He saw no women, no children under the age of army acceptance, no "deadweight" as most army officials called it.

The group halted outside the northern point of the village, where a steep incline made a natural wall against most of the wind. Tents of grey were set up in a circle, one large pavilion situated in the center. Numerous carts and carriages were strewn about, some broken, some empty and a few filled with weaponry and other supplies.

The captains dismounted and two young villagers took their horses. Fuu nodded at Ping and the keeper of the other horse in their squad, motioning to the boys.

"Go ahead and give Daiyu and Fenfang your horses; they will be fed and groomed to the best of our capacity."

Ping felt uneasy just handing over Khan to strangers, but did as told and gave an affectionate pat to his head, murmuring in his ear and rubbing the spot over his nose.

He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and looked up at Fuu. "Don't worry," the dark-skinned soldier assured him, leading him to the pavilion, "he'll be well kept. I haven't forgotten your soft spot for animals," he teased, poking his cheek.

Ping swatted away his hand. "And I recall your disregard for personal space," he quipped back, rolling his eyes. Fuu suddenly stiffened, giving him a searching look, exotic jades glimmering with a hundred emotions.

"So…does that mean…you remember that time by the river?"

Ping froze, looking anywhere but his face. "I…I do," he got out slowly. Every fiber of his person wanted him to run, to escape, to fold in on himself. But then what had these past months been about? He wasn't the same shy, spineless cub that had fled from home with a death wish in his heart; he had grown, sharpened his claws and toughened his flesh to the life of a soldier, ready to pounce when his captain ordered, to hiss when his comrades needed his help.

He stood his ground and met Fuu's eye. "I do," he repeated. "And I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran away, and I'm sorry I avoided you. I still," emotion caught in his throat. Fuu gave the few soldiers milling around them a withering glare and they left. Vaguely, he noted Captain Shang standing outside the tent, face turned away from the conversation but eyes unfocused. "I still thought of you as a friend after that. But I was scared."

Ping licked his lips and looked up at Fuu, who gave him a nod. "Keep going," he murmured.

"I was scared because I had never been touched like that," he felt his cheeks heat up but ignored it, o Gods just ignore it, "and because that kind of act between two males is looked down on. I was just…scared. And now," he stood taller, filling his lungs and forcing his voice up, "I'm not scared anymore. Not of myself, anyway. I can tell you, Fuu, that I'm…" o Gods, I'm what? In love? Infatuated, head over heels?

Yet again a warm hand landed on his shoulder. Fuu wore a bittersweet smile as he said, "That's more than enough, Ping. We'd better get moving," he gave a friendly squeeze to his arm and started walking towards the pavilion as another squad wearing the Jin Zai colors approached. He tilted his head down at the shorter male and winked.

"We wouldn't want Captain Shang worrying about you any more than necessary, would we?"

Ping's eyes grew to comical proportions and he sputtered.

"W-what are you—"

"Come along, Fa Ping," Shang yelled from his post outside the tent, authority seeping into his voice. Ping felt even his neck go red when Mushu started chuckling against it.

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