In all of its mystical prophetic nature, Instinct's reaction had come a step too late.
By the time he had warned his allies, the seemingly harmless bead of colored glass had already left Daniel's grip, shot in their direction at a speed that left no room for explanations. All he could do, in what little time he had, was to instinctively dive to the ground and yell, "DODGE!"
He had failed to see this coming, and not for a lack of attention. His power allowed him to make use of the quality of instinct in its every form. He could dodge any attack with his eyes closed, guess one's mood with a simple glimpse of their face, and direct himself through countless problems with what those who knew nothing of him would call a 'spectacularly fortuitous series of lucky guesses.'
