Instincts

Chapter 3 - Broken Doors and Empty Wallets (Part 1)

A/N:

I am just going to take this moment for a brief aside and say that I got my first fan! *Squeal* She is an awesome writer! Check out the link to her page:http://www.wattpad.com/user/Sofeaquestionmark. (Hope you don't mind the plug, hon!)

Anyways, enough with my dribble and on with the story! Get ready, because this is where the meat of it really begins to start! This part was pretty long, so I had to split it up into multiple parts. Hope you readers enjoy! Happy readings!

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!!!!!///IMPORTANT/////!!! I will post these before each chapter entry in an attempt to explain some of the more complicated terms referred to in the chapter that I feel the absolute need to include. Sorry if that's a bit of a burden, but for me it authenticates the experience. Hope it does the same for all of you as well! (Plus, I want to put it in each time so that people don't have to constantly refer back to previous passages in order to be reminded of what stuff means.) Hopefully this helps!

Story's Vocab/Key:

Baroque, Urion, The Open, Uninhabbitable Lands: Territories throughout the story's land. (Baroque and Urion are also the names of the breeds that live there.)

Loner: Breed that does not belong to a designated territory or pack--most likely a nomadic being who lives in the Open or, if they are tough, the Uninhabbitable Lands.

Voice: For those of us unfamiliar with the Twilight series, I will explain as best I can. It is the unspoken "mental line" that the pack members use to communicate to one another. It is really talking to one another without actually talking. Get it?

Haze: It is the energy source that the character draw from in order to get power to feed whatever action they need to execute. It is usually only needed for battle purposes.

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Hyatt leaned back, tipping the chair on its hind legs, creating less space between it and the hardwood floor. It was at times like these where he felt good about his balance abilities; let him know that he still had them. He knew he would have to go on a run soon because he could even feel himself getting rusty. He heaved a sigh at the thought, but the slight burst of adrenaline that rushed underneath his skin at the thought was undeniable.

    The door rattled then burst in, much to his expectancy. He knew Svetta’s gait from the moment her small feet came through the door downstairs; she was the first of the children to ever have a distinctive skip added to their run. To him, that was one of the many endearing things about her.

   “Hyatt!” she called loudly, letting her small voice bellow through the room, and probably the entire neighborhood; he had left the windows open.

  He gave a sharp whistle, which caused the girl to quickly spin around to see him next to the door, then held his finger up to his lips and winked. Her face brightened and she held up her finger too and placed it on her lips, playing along with his silence game. But, if he knew her, she would probably be losing in about three, two, one…

    “Hyatt, is this her?” she gasped, rushing over to one of the beds.

   He gave a knowing smile and, without getting up, reached forward and caught the strap of the girl’s overalls, bringing her to a halt. She struggled against his hold for a few seconds then realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere and stopped, looking around curiously for the cause. She finally saw his arm and tilted her head to the side questioningly. This was another thing that Hyatt found so endearing about the cubs; many of them, at the time of being given new information, would cock their heads to the right, trying to collect and understand what was going on. “Yes,” he nodded in a hushed tone. They both glanced over at the bed that was set along the wall, under the windows, with someone sleeping in it. It was a girl who had the oddest naturally-colored hair that streamed out around her, the sunlight playing off of the gray’s sandy highlights. She was relatively tall—her toes could almost reach the end of his bed; then again, the bed itself was pretty small, and he rolled off of it often. Her breathing rhythm was smooth and regular at this point, unlike her deep, slow breaths from before, and nothing compared to the broken, rapid, shallow way she had been panting when she was brought to the house in the first place.