River was far too focused to notice much of her surroundings outside of the feel of the floor beneath her feet, and the counts of the music in her head.
It was nice in a way. There was no noise, no thoughts clouding her mind as she danced. She knew the directors must be thinking, probably quite loudly, about their decision, but she couldn't hear it. On some level, that was frustrating. But more immediately, it allowed her to focus.
River was never anything but a good dancer. Even great. She understood the movements and could do all of them. But now, without the distraction of other people's minds, she was rapidly approaching entrancing.
A cardinal rule of dance of any kind, for a dancer of any level, is to keep the focus of the eyes off of the ground. It's tempting to focus on it, to watch your feet move. River didn't have this problem. She did not see the apple, and simply continued to dance.
As she approached the end of the variation and the very difficult series of turns, River could see a small hint of red. It was close. It was inches from her supporting foot as she stepped into the first movement.
But it appeared to wobble to a stop. As long as she didn't move back and forth too much while dancing, it would be fine.
River didn't wobble.
When she was done, she stood up, smiled, and grabbed the apple, immediately turning around to look for its source. She held the fruit in her right hand and moved off of the stage with a nod to the other dancers and to the directors. It was another dancer's turn now, anyway.
It had been a closed audition. But apples didn't just appear out of thin air.
River saw a pair of feet behind a curtain, and while waiting for her breath to return to normal, contemplated what to do with the owner of those feet. She decided to give him back his apple.
She bent and rolled it toward the shoes she saw, then waited for a reaction.