Greetings all,

Here it is. Nooshy has captured my imagination and I have at least one multi-chapter fic for her, with this being installment one. With this being my first multi-chapter in a while, please feel free to leave comments and feedback – but as it shouldn't have to be said, don't be childish please. No one has time for that.

This was fun for me to write and the chapters I have planned give me much excitement…I can't wait to share them with you.

Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen I present the first chapter in my new full-length story: Sueltate.

Happy Writing,

Sehmti

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The best cure for stress was always a rhythm – it didn't matter to her if it was some grand thumping beat or a classical harmony, it didn't matter if the words flowed from the artist's mouth or from the songbook in her head, and it certainly didn't matter if the music even existed to the rest of the world or just her. She had the hardest time in the world explaining what others apparently had the easiest time displaying, and so Nooshy expressed it in another way. Today's chaos had her wrapped up in some (what was supposed to be) calming music strumming through her wireless earbuds – a very thoughtful surprise from Buster - as she tried to burn off her excess energy in a way that she had been unable to do for quite some time.

It had been a long time since she had any kind of space to even consider doing gymnastics, even if she only new the bare bones basics it was the best way she knew to keep her flexibility where it needed to be. In Redshore that took the form of parkour or running from the authorities…but whetever's clever, she had always told herself. Here the game was different, and when Johnny had off-handed mentioned to the owner of the New Moon Theatre that she had a pension of all kinds of mixed arts, he had been so incredibly excited to set up what was once a dead zone in the back hall into a makeshift studio for her. She had her own uneven bars, her own balance beam, her own shock mats – oh for heaven's sake he had even put in a bearing pole for when she sucked up her pride and altered to her minimal knowledge of ballet. That was a rare day; today was even rarer in her arsenal.

Buster had made one thing clear to her the day he had almost brought her to tears (she would never tell him that though): she was free to use this room however and whenever she saw fit to do so, because he made it abundantly clear that this room was hers…with an exception. If she was doing anything other than basic dance she needed a spotter. They didn't need to be actively involved in what she was doing, they didn't have to say anything, they didn't even have to really keep track of what she was doing. To her irritation, they were the safety net in case things went south. She had understood but still felt the twinge of frustration. She didn't need the handicap.

But that was a small price to pay for this – in this moment she was free to pivot and turn on the balance beam, her bare feet remembering this surprisingly well with the time she had missed doing it. Clay had wandered in on his own when she had retreated here from the stage earlier, almost like the old lion understood that she was dangerously close to boiling over with something that she couldn't bring words to. This was stress relief to her, and his heart went out to the young lynx who was so obviously stressed that she had only offered him a grateful smile for joining her before almost chucking her hoodie onto the back of a chair, shaking off her boots and socks, and jamming the earbuds in her ears before starting her warm up.

Clay didn't need to hear the music she heard and moved to, her movements illustrated it enough. Her stress levels were high…and he didn't need to guess why. Oh, there was a whole list on the kid's shoulders.

First was school. He was so incredibly proud of her for keeping her promise to Marcus – her exchange for staying under his roof was to get enrolled in college courses and start forging her way to her dream. She had been absolutely terrified of the idea, so much so in fact that he vividly remembered the conversation he shared with her to talk her off the proverbial ledge she was on. She hadn't surrendered that information to him, but Johnny was a simple nut to crack in order to get information. All it had taken was a question, a deep hum in his throat, and a purposeful lean down into the gorilla's field of vision and he had spilled his guts on why the lynx had come back to the theatre after his mysterious text and a two week absence with what Clay had clearly identified as healing wounds on her face. That was a talk that Nooshy had tried to run from when she caught onto why he was there, but the end result was for the better. Now she had started to feed him little bits of her worries and insecurities, and it came as a surprise to him that she was actually struggling a bit with applying what she was learning to what she was doing in real life.

Then there was her big-hearted decision – yet another point of pride he had in her. At her request Buster had been more than willing to let her host a couple one hour community classes centered around dance. She excelled at it, but he was starting to notice a small glimmer of insecurity in her eyes when groups got larger than ten or so in number… and he hadn't had the chance to question her to make sure that she wasn't doing exactly what he knew she was doing: self-medicating her fear of failing by forcing herself into situations that she wasn't ready for.

Then… there were her fears. Now, Nooshy was an excellent playright in her own world. There wasn't a person who had met her that wasn't secretly afraid to somehow piss her off an end up facing the absolutely frigid hell that would be released on them. There wasn't a single person in her troupe that didn't see her as nearly infallible, unmovable, unshakeable in anything she chose to do. She had a good heart, a sweet soul, and was so confident in every choice she made – until she wasn't. Anyone who didn't know what to look for fell for the cover story rather well and made the ultimate decision to accept it as truth. Clay saw past it.

In the group he had quietly watched her, admittedly when they had first met he had grown to like her rather quickly. Scrawny little thing as she was she was quite aware of her space and protected her boundaries better than her much larger companions, but there was an interesting quirk there. If Johnny was there, she was calm. She was confident, vigilant, and warm – and very protective. If he walked away or he simply wasn't there, she was very different. The façade portrayed the same, but her body language changed. Her ears were pinned straight, her eyes always moving, her arms ever so loosely crossed in front of her chest in what most would assume was relaxation. It was far from, Clay had realized rather quickly. It was preparation defense. She was anxious… he couldn't figure out what it was that was triggering that behavior or the resource guarding she blatantly showed with her self-adopted brother.

Believing for a moment that he (or anyone) could fully understand the trauma behind that behavior and how it impacted her and continued to haunt her disrespected the complexity, the power, and the invasive nature of whatever that trauma was. Probably not even Nooshy herself could fully understand every aspect of it or what she needed to process it in order to start any form of recovery. What she was doing right now was clear enough evidence that she was at a bit of a loss in terms of what to do, and in her mind her best option was just to avoid the sensation until she felt the strength to approach it. The lion could see it and the whisper in his mind wanted to reach out to ease that burden, but their relationship wasn't to that level… and as much as he respected young Johnny, he doubted the gorilla knew how to address it either.

It killed him, this knowledge. He sat here watching this woman so gracefully move herself and flip herself and stretch herself in such a rhythm that his mind was mesmerized by music he couldn't hear – and yet that grace is exactly what ripped his heart out. She wasn't living to the potential she had. She had something he had never seen before, and as much as she would tell him to his face that she knew, she ran from it. She had finally graduated to sleeping a solid five out of seven nights a week inside ("hiccups", Markus called the other two), she was actually eating about a meal and a half daily now (that was a whole other world of fight that Buster was working on), and she had actually formed quite the kinship with young Porsha that he hadn't expected. These were all so positive, and if she could only take that next step he couldn't imagine where it would take her.

Nooshy had moved now to swing herself from the uneven bars, the muscles in her arms shaking quite heavily as she forced her body into a handstand and then eventually supporting herself on her right arm. He had to admit that he was impressed.

The light clicking of shoes – tiny steps – broke his concentration and he turned to the door, more than attentive at the woman who entered with a regal strut.

"Mr. Calloway," the old sheep greeted with a nod of her head, taking a seat in the chair next to him.

"Ms. Noodleman," he grumbled back and returned the gesture, then glancing around to try and find the small fuzzy irritation that normally accompanied her, "Where's Moon?"

"He is aloft with our guests," Nana informed him, raising her fan to point in the direction of the koala and the two mammals he speaking to.

Buster was giving some kind of enthralling speech, the lion gathered by his sweeping hand gestures – but it didn't seem to be doing much for either the coyote or his lioness companion. Talent scouts were never Clay's thing, and these two were here from a league so far beyond what this group had accomplished that he wasn't sure why they were spending their time here. That wasn't to say that this little band of misfits hadn't succeeded in making a name for themselves – if nothing else, they had done a tremendous job of that – but these two wore symbols that the old lion had recognized when they first arrived. He had never been thrilled to see them out and about, but these talent scouts were dream makers.

They represented a league so far away from his own that he had never bothered to dig into their presence much, so their sudden arrival had surprised him. This was all instigated by Buster no doubt…always reaching for levels above his head. From what the old lion could see, they were far from enthralled by the koala's sales pitch.

"Trying real hard, isn't he?" Clay muttered lowly to Nana. She chuckled in return, snapping her fan open.

"Indeed he is, and quite a determined young fool Mr. Moon can be."

She turned her eyes to the uneven bars where Nooshy had yet to move. Her amber eyes were locked on her own shaking hand that held her upright as though she were giving it a pep talk, her left arm bent and placed firmly behind her back. Always straight, never shaking.

"I see young Ms. Wright is back in form," she observed with a soft edge to her voice, "although a bit worse for wear."

"She is," Clay granted, his own eyes wandering back to the young woman, "There's a lot of talent hidden within those walls."

"I fear those walls may be insurmountable by us, Mr. Calloway. Given time perhaps, but not now. I dare say she has the ability to be far more than she is now, but only at the expense of vulnerability."

"A day at a time, Ms. Noodleman," Clay assured her, watching the lynx slowly move to put both arms on the pole, "Kind treatment makes good performers. Undoing harsh treatment is a measure that takes time."

Nooshy, still oblivious to their conversation due to the music in her earpods, took a breath. After another, she swung herself around, catching herself on a lower bar, flipped herself around, gained momentum, grasped the top bar, and moved into position again. With shaking muscles she slowly moved to raise her right arm this time, bearing weight on her left. Clay winced to himself at the sudden body language change – that left arm of hers continued to be a problem since the night she had gotten in the fight with the mugger. Despite having healed fairly quickly she had shown favor to the arm and given the absolute tremble that ricocheted through her body he knew exactly what was coming. The look in Nooshy's eyes changed. He could see the frustration that bubbled there… and just like he knew she was doing, he began to silently count.

One second for strength.

Two seconds for courage.

Three seconds for determination.

Four seconds for endurance.

Five seconds for improvement –

It all happened in a blur then. She had gone to catch herself when her strength failed. She missed. Just like a clump of hail from a winter cloud she went careening toward the ground, almost certainly ready to impact the shock mat below –

But before Clay could even react she did, turning her body inward and catching herself in a tumble before changing that move into a set of flips that she landed after spiraling in mid air. She had caught herself and stood on her feet – not as gracefully as she had ever intended to land but landing it nonetheless, and she couldn't help but give herself a fist pump in victory.

As Nooshy took herself on a couple walking laps around to cool down she was blissfully unaware of the total silence that had enveloped all five of the animals that watched her – all five pairs of eyes almost frozen to that point in time.

"…have you ever seen that?" the voice came soft and slightly unsure of how to react to what he had just seen the lynx do.

"No. Not me," was the response of his companion.

It seemed that, despite Clay's opinion to the contrary, there may be a purpose to their presence after all.

OOOOO

Nooshy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, the card in her hand feeling surprisingly heavy despite it being made of simple paper and ink. She flipped it once or twice in her paws as if she had missed some deeper reason to why it had the weight that it did…or how it was that she, of all people, would be the one seated on the roof of the Moon Theatre with this thing in her hands. The conversation with that coyote had been straight forward enough, but it was so out of the blue that it almost hit her like a ton of bricks. She was Nooshy – and being Nooshy she didn't know what to do with this.

Not half an hour ago after she had given her thanks to Clay and Nana – not missing the hidden look in the old lion's eyes that told her she had missed something of critical importance – she had headed off alone toward the back entrance to the stage. There was no further group practice today, so other than Nana and Clay it was only Buster present in the theatre … so it hadn't taken her long to lock onto the sound of footsteps that came toward her direction. That stride wasn't familiar to her, those steps weren't a friend.

She remembered then reaching out to grab one of the wooden staffs she used for practice with Johnny, twirling it about and locking it into a useful position in her right hand before closing her eyes. It was a steadying breath that she took then… she would be damned if she was intimidated in her own territory. She didn't bother to turn around as the footsteps stopped behind her.

"You're going to have to be much quieter than that to sneak up on me, stranger," she stated to the air calmly, her voice carrying in the empty theatre as she only half-turned, "I hope you have a very good reason for approaching me from behind."

The coyote realized his misstep and immediately held up both paws in a peace motion, his eyes widening as he took a half step back. The look this woman was giving him spelled immediate danger…the look in her eye then was a promise of harm if he didn't back away.

"I – I assure you I do. Apologies I didn't think of the implications – "

He cleared his throat, reaching to straighten the tie around his neck before reaching into his coat pocket.

"I apologize for the misstep, miss. My name is Chris, I'm a talent scout for the NTA. You are… Miss Wright, am I correct?"

"Nooshy," the lynx corrected, eyes sharp but her voice edging back slightly. She had to guess that Buster had fed him at least some information.

"Nooshy," Chris corrected himself, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and flipping through it, "My partner and I have been searching for new talent to bring into the fold…and we saw your workout just now."

Well. That sucks.

Nooshy winced to herself, finally allowing her body to relax and putting the staff back in its holder. Of all the time for talent scouts to be here they would of course choose the time that she almost fell flat on her face from fifteen feet in the air.

"Saw that did ya?" she asked him lowly, finally turning to fully front her body to him. She crossed her clothed arms loosely, trying to hide her disappointment.

Way to blow the shot there, Noosh.

"We did," Chris responded, finally grabbing what he was looking for. A business card – one that was presented to a rather startled Nooshy.

She stared at it for a long moment before reaching out a shaking paw and accepting it from him, looking to his eyes as if to inquire further information. He didn't disappoint.

"Stage Zero time trials are being held in Arcadia on Friday. I understand that you don't have formal licensing or training….successful completion and placement in the top ten of the five full-length trials gives you a berth to an NTA trainer and camp."

She didn't know what to say to him. She didn't know how to process this. She just stood, numb, arm still outstretched where she held that business card as the coyote put his wallet away, straightened his suit jacket, and spoke for the final time.

"Stage Zero time trials are Friday," he turned and began to walk away, pausing in the doorway of the exit to the backstage where his companion had engaged in conversation with Nana, Buster, and Clay, "….you think about it."

He had left then, left her standing there like she was frozen in time.

And now she was seated on the roof in the cool evening air, staring at this card in her hand like it was some foreign creature that, if mishandled, would bite her and unleash a toxin into her body. She was numb. What had just happened?

A slight breeze tickled her face and she twitched a whiskered lip, flicking her left ear to sort out the itch. Was this real? This couldn't be real. No one else knew about it, no one else had to know about it. She had been a kid in school when she watched those National Triathlete Association competitions… she had been a kid so in awe at what she watched that she had promised herself she would be there one day. Then she had grown up.

This was so far out of her realm that she was quite certain this was some kind of sick joke. One thumb rolled over the imprinted words on the card. This was so far out of her league. This couldn't be real –

She damn near jumped out of her skin at the sound of the door to the roof opening, and quite quickly she shoved the card in her pocket and turned to greet her friend.

"Oi Noosh there ya are," Johnny greeted, popping out of the door.

"Here I am," she smiled back, puzzled at the look on his face, "Why so worried?"

He puffed his cheeks out at her.

"I've been callin and textin ya, you crazy," he told her, "and ya didn't answer so I got worried."

Nooshy fished her phone out from her hoody, sure to keep the card hidden, and unlocked it. Sure enough – three missed calls, five separate texts from the gorilla. She frowned.

"Sorry mate must've forgotten to turn the ringer back on," she told him, shaking the device.

"'s alright," Johnny responded, waving his hand, "C'mon, dad's been worried. It's almost dinner time anyway, Mr. Moon's going to be locking up for the night."

The lynx gave him a soft smile, getting to her feet and following him down the stairwell into the theatre…. That card burning a hole into her hoodie.

"You think about it."

She couldn't help but oblige.

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This is the first chapter installment of my first multi-chapter fic in a VERY long time. Any pointers, feedback, and comment would be greatly appreciated all, and I hope you enjoyed it.

Happy Writing,

Sehmti