Salsa's Tale (Short Story)

Salsa danced, her hoop earrings jangling as she did a jerky dance. Her onlookers, half-drunken old males, jeered at her hypnotizing dance and threw coins and other items at her, some not as pleasant as gems for her meals.
Her master, a beefy cheetah covered with scars and matted fur, watched without emotion, his whip dangling from his belt.
She did the usual dance, where her body was doing a sort of "inappropriate" motion. Her bottom part was wriggling as if she were doing labor, forcing her baby out of her womb and into the cold world.
From waist up, her torso and head were in a sort of stupor, as if she were having sex with her greatest love. She didn't like it, but if she didn't dance, Salsa would get whipped and deprived of food until she complied.

Late that night, as she gazed at the stars, she recalled her entire life.
Salsa was an orphan, found in a campfire by some half-drunk fishermen and taken to the orphanage. There, she was teased for being scrawny by wolves, bunnies, cheetahs, pretty much every animal was out to get her. Her ears were tugged like Dumbo's were by meanies, her food was meager and not very gregarious among all the orphans, the toy quality poor, and orphans who were even a little kind to her were quickly adopted by widows and gay couples. It was as if the world were preparing her for... something.
Her only comfort was a stuffed animal that stayed in fairly good condition. It was a stuffed jackal with black fur, golden stripes, a bandana necklace, and cyan eyes that she imagined begged for help.
Then, she discovered her pyrokinetic powers.
Late one night, she was getting cold in the barracks, so she imagined fire dancing around her. And, surprisingly, that happened. Her bunkmates and herself, along with her stuffed animal escaped, but most of the orphans weren't so lucky. So, then, she was charged with mass murder and arson despite being only 8, and she ran away.
Oh, for so many nights and days passed as she fled from her former life, the police, and the scorn her appearance faced. Christians, Muslims, atheists and other religious bodies alike snubbed her, making Salsa resent any deities a large cult followed. Only those who believed in no magic and the ones who followed the most ancient gods, Zios and Mira, would even give her a scrap of their food. She eventually took to stealing jewelry, and she soon was studded with nose-rings, earrings, and so many anklets that she had to prance more slowly. All the while, her stuffed animal, Loki, always was by her side, ready to be cuddled fiercely, and was never lost even for a zeptosecond.
Then, exhausted and no longer willing to live, she found the underworld of Jamaa, from Chorus's descendants (see Amelia's Vow for Chorus's identity) to the various messiahs of the black market. She found many of them were just like her, desperate for a home, attention and were shunned by all. So, Salsa, hope renewed, joined the jangling dancers of the troupe. Quickly, however, she realized the sheer evil in the troupe, and tried to escape. However, the leader, now her master, paddled her, and Salsa learned to stay behind and obey him. Now, she was the only one that couldn't escape his grip, and the one pressured to do a job that ten elephants once did, without any alterations for less bulk.
Now, here she was.
She stroked Loki, and it purred.
Purred?
She looked down, and saw that Loki, for some reason or the other, was a living animal now. Bones and muscles rippled under its lavish fur, its eyes now no longer glass, and its tail thumping up and down with contentment.
"L-loki?" she stammered.
"Purr." it responded.
Suddenly, she realized all of the birds chirping in the grasslands had fallen silent, the chewing of zebras ceased, and even the wind chimes on the mighty baobab tree silenced. Only a fragnant breeze awaited Salsa's senses.
Salsa... I am your creator... The master of harmony, peace, and the one who dilutes all chaos... whispered the breeze. The voice was harmonious and beautiful, like a dozen songbirds learned how to chirp in chorus. The one who sires heroes, one who founded the Alphas, one who sees all, knows all, embraces the needy in my wings, and counters Is'Fet...
The leaves swirled in the breeze to form the shape of a grey heron.
... Mira, goddess of harmony, peace and beauty. The one who will rescue you.
Salsa stared at Mira, openmouthed.
I am sorry I cannot form my true apparation here. I am growing close to breaking free of my statue, and I need to conserve power. There are other heroes that already know they are heroes, such as my dear Frost, and the bane of the phantoms, Tempest. There are also others who still wander without knowing of their destiny, which are Mouse, Sabre, and you, Salsa. Keldeo already is apprenticed to Sophia, the horse Alpha, although he does not know he is a true Hero. Last but not least, Evada is truly a hero, and she works closely with the others, although she isn't official. Follow me, Salsa, to a new journey... to a new life. Loki will guide you the rest of the way.