This is the first chapter in my first story...The Chosen One. Tell me what you think about it!

Chapter 1: Tempest Raider

It was a cold, rainy night. The wind blew fiercely across the ghetto. It was a scary place to be...but especially scary tonight.

But in the cold, happiness lived on. In a shack at the far east end of the ghetto, a celebration arose. Naomie, a Shek with streaked dark, brown hair, rejoiced. She had just given birth to a beautiful litter of offspring. She played with them, holing them gently in her hands. Feeling their little bodies pressed against hers.

"Ahh... ," she said joyfully. She was very proud of herself. She had given birth to ten beautiful babies. Most Shek females didn't produce half of that in one year. Better yet, each baby was beautiful, with their different shades of brown, but one baby stood out of the rest. The last born male, whom she had named Parak, was a solid red color with no streaks. "You are special, little one," she told it often, "You are perfect!"

Her babies were the only happiness left in her life. Her husband, who was a dust runner and the children's da, was caught by the Viis guards and was sold at the slave auctions. She was forced to leave them in the care of no one when she was had to work. Though she was in a delicate condition, she had to work or turn to crime, which she would never do.

One rainy night, many weeks after the birth of the flits, there was a banging on the door. Without consent, an Aribu in a gray cloak and two armed Gorician guards smashed through the door.

"You," said the aribu to one of the guards, "grab the mother."

Naomie was taken to her feet, "Who are you? What are you doing?"

"Silence," growled the guard in her ear, "or face the penalties of insolence."

Naomie silenced her questioning. The aribu chocked his head, looking at the flits.

"No! Please, don't hurt the..." she was cut off in mid sentence by a slap to the face from the abiru. She let out an embarrassing yip of pain.

"Silence fool!" yelled the abiru

Naomie stared at the ground, "Please, leave the flits be," slipped from her mouth. Knowing she would most likely receive punishment for her insolence, she continued, "They are only five weeks old. They need their mother at this young of an age."

The aribu payed no attention to her babble. He grabbed three of the flits by the scruff of their necks. Park was the first flit he examined. The fur on Parak's neck stood and he growled at the abiru, "Ugly little thing..." he said, trailing off. Parak yipped and bit the aribu's finger. He swore and threw Parak into the wall with no regard of the fact he may have killed him.

Naomie flinched, "Please, stop! You're hurting them!" she growled and knocked the guard backward. She exposed her sharp fangs, She swung at the abiru with her sharp claws and missed. She was about to leap forward when she felt something stick into her back. A charge zapped through her and she fell limp. She saw the guard holding the stun button in his right hand.

"Maybe this will teach you to respect people that are higher in society than you!" he kicked her and walked away.

"Master Scant," said the guard who had been holding Naomie back, "what shall we do with the mother?"

Scant appeared to think. He stood and looked at her in hatred, "I think we have done enough damage. Let her be."

Naomie saw him turn his back to her and look at the flits. She heard her flits yipping as he grabbed them one by one and stuffed them into a bag. She wanted to cry, but she didn't have the strength. She saw her lifeless child lying on the ground. Pain shot through her.

Scant exited the door after shoving the last flit into the bag. Naomie prayed for her and her flits' lives. Her flits were gone, and Parak was dead, or very badly injured. She knew that all she could do was go to sleep. She hoped when she woke up, she would find out that this was all just a bad dream.

Naomie was woken by a small yip of pain. She slowly got up onto her hands and knees and crawled over to Parak. He had a bloody gash across his left leg. Naomie gently picked up her son and hugged him tightly, being sure not to hurt his leg. She cried until she was out of tears.

"Hey Naomie!"

"What?"

"It's me, Gardon!" Gardon was Shek who ran messages for the slave owners. He was very kind, but very loyal to his master. He would never defy the laws he believed in, "Your master wishes you to report to Sector D: 42."

She dried her tears and got up, wincing in pain, "Alright, I'm coming."

"Gotta run. See ya Naomie!" said Gardon, running off, stopping every now and again.