A Kind Of Bravery: A Mulan Retelling [1st Draft]

17. Following Orders

Chapter Seventeen:

Following Orders

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Harriet eyed Leopold, listening to him speak about the wounded men with the medics. There were less than they had expected, but more than they had hoped. The medics were moving non-stop, and Leopold's tent had become something of a hub of activity. Every medic was reporting on different injuries, or even worse, asking what to do with their dead.

Harriet shuddered. If no one did anything, there would only be more. She had no doubt in her mind that the traitors were planning something. They wouldn't give up so easily. She would have to find a way to stop the traitors without going against Leopold's orders directly. She felt a surge of guilt as a plan began to form in her mind, but nonetheless she kept quiet. If she had to leave the tent or Frederick's tent to stop the traitors from killing everyone, she would simply have to take her guard with her.

Granted, of course, she could have to get said guard to agree with her. The medics had yet to inform her where he was, or even how he was, and so she was waiting rather impatiently. While she certainly wasn't too keen on leaving the camp, she knew Garreth had still been in contact with his fellow spies before the battle. With any luck, he would finally know what they planned to do.

Beginning to grow impatient, Harriet got up from her seat, making Leopold's eyes dart to her moving figure immediately. She shot him a look, but continued towards the divider where she had left her armor. Rounding the corner and stepping behind the divider, she scooped her armor up into her arms, but nearly dropped it at the sound of a startled squeak.

Peering down, she felt a feeling of guilt wash over her as she quickly held out a hand for the little mouse still nestled in his little holster. She held him gently, kicking herself for forgetting him, but Clark seemed more than fine. In fact, he gave a tiny yawn and just curled up into a ball in her hand.

"Sorry, buddy," Harriet whispered, holding him close. The armor could wait, she decided, and she went out into the main part of the tent to sit down while cradling Clark in her hands. She couldn't believe she had forgotten him, but in the aftermath of Leopold finding out her secret she had hardly spared anything but their conversation and the war any thought. Plus, she had known he had been safe as he had been so at the end of the battle.

Sitting in her chair, Harriet was forced to wait for another half an hour, stuck listening to Leopold's quill scratching on paper once the medics left. They didn't say a word to each other, and she was honestly grateful for it. She didn't think she could handle anymore discussions with that man for a little bit. She had quite a lot to wrap her head around already.

Like for instance his weird wording on certain parts. She wasn't wrong in over analyzing it, was she? It had been as if he'd almost said that he- that he loved her. But that didn't make any sense. She hadn't really talked to him as herself for over a year.

Harriet's lips turned down into a frown. It must've just been a slip of the tongue. Maybe the kind of love he was speaking of wasn't romantic. Maybe like a sister. Harriet ignored the twist in her stomach at that thought. She fought the urge to smack herself in the head. She needed to abandon that train of thought.

Trying to focus on anything but the strange relationship between herself and Leopold, Harriet's eyes darted everywhere but on Leopold, settling instead on Clark. Eventually, there was the sound of a clearing of a throat and Harriet jerked her head up from where it was pointing her sight at her hands and the little mouse in them to see a medic standing in the entryway. Beside him was a weary looking Garreth.

"Your highness, you asked me to bring Mr. McIntosh here whenever he felt well enough," the medic stated, sounding unsure of his orders, but Leopold just set down his quill.