lipsthatshame:

—

“If of all words of tongue and pen, the saddest are “It might have been.” More sad are these we daily see: “It is, but hadn’t ought to be.” 

                          - Francis Brett Hart

The heat from the torches tickled her cheeks. She smiled blissfully and rubbed at the imaginary tingle that the fire left over. This was everything she had ever imagined when she thought of China. Granted, she didn’t know too much about the country, but she always pictured warm colors, tantalizing music, kimonos, and dragons. At least, not the terrifying sort of dragons. They had very long bodies with colorful scales. As for the one that swayed in front of her, she was almost certain it was fake. The dragon reared it’s head to look at her and suddenly, she knew. It was going to attack her, like always. It was always the dragon. Gradually, she took a slow deep breath. It crept closer. This was nothing more than a dream. She had to keep telling herself that or else she would scream. Just as expected, it’s jaw opened wide to show off the pointed teeth inside. It wouldn’t be long now.

As soon as the tornado-like pillar of fire charged towards her, the beauty’s eyes opened in a panic. Her heart beat frantically beneath her nightgown and would not stop. Her amethyst eyes darted around. This wasn’t the normal aftereffects of a nightmare. This time, she couldn’t calm down. This wasn’t her bed. There wasn’t a pillow to cling to. She wasn’t in her cottage. Her three aunts were not there to comfort her. Instead, she was sitting in the dark on a very hard place. She couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black.

The scream that she had been holding down for so long finally erupted and echoed off of the mountains.

When the sound of a woman’s scream ripped through the air, Ping could have sworn that he looked up a split second before the rest of the training recruits.  It was a sound that made his insides twist, his toes curl, and his face blench, because what could possibly cause a woman to make a sound like that?  The sort of thing that gave a woman nightmares - especially if she was a woman alone, especially if (and now he was thinking of himself, not the scream) if she was surrounded by men.  

Ping was gratified to see that Captain Shang also looked grave.  "Soldiers who have horses, with me,“ directed the officer; his eyes met Ping’s for a brief second, and immediately the recruit’s admiration gave way to hurt as he saw clearly that the captain would really rather have given a call for skilled men, because what help could a boy like Ping possibly give?  "There’s smoke in the direction of that scream.  We’ll see what’s going on.  Move out, quickly!”

Though the flames snapping the bamboo thicket a mile outside of camp were climbing higher and higher along the tall green-and-gold shoots, Ping was almost relieved to find that it wasn’t Hun guerrillas, or bandits, or a vengeful dragon out of his baba’s wonder tales.  Dismounting, the men stumbled through the burnt and stinking plants, coughing and calling out to the woman helpfully.  Ping dove off of the path as a cluster of bamboo crashed, still burning, to the ground, but the flames licked at his pant leg and he rolled over and over where he lay, trying to put it out before the fire could reach his skin.

The dust and ashes were streaked in lines of sweat across Ping’s face and he sat up, shook his head, and saw her.  "Are you all right?“ the would-be soldier screamed over the sound of the blaze, stumbling to his feet.