He doesn't delude himself into thinking there will be a rescue.  Even now, so far away and having missed the end of the battle, he knows his pride is destroyed along with his family.  Kodiak is scattered and lying in ruins.

There's no use in feeling sorry for himself, or asking 'why me?'  Why not him?  His plight isn't unique or even unusual.  How many times had the Kodiak ripped children away from parents, designating them for sale or relocation?  It's the way of the galaxy.  He likes to think that his bloodline was not as brutal and ruthless as these betrayers, but even at 16, he knows he's been sheltered from much of the dealings of the pride.  He's not stupid enough to idealise, but it's tempting.

There were others in this box, two boys and a girl.  The girl was a few years younger, but the boys were so small, and injured. It's possible they will be taken in by a betrayer family, if their bloodlines show promise.  If not -- he doesn't want to think about the alternatives.

Adoption is not an option for him or the girl.  They're too old, would always remember and eventually seek revenge. It's best to get them as far away from the betrayers as possible.   He's not sure how long he'sbeen alone, but he can guess where they took the girl.  Her long, dark hair and innocent-appearing eyes made her perfect for sale to some fat merchant pig.  He wonders how long it will take her to kill her new master.

He wasn't fooled by her veneer of helplessness.

The door opens, and one of them enters with the slop they call food.  Even during rationing times, his family ate better.  He ignores the slop and the scum who carries it.  It doesn't stop the inevitable gloating.

"Tyr Anasazi.  Treasured son of Barbarosa.  How does it feel to know that by now, your father's corpse is bloated and infested by scavengers?  That your mother lies surrounded by the bodies of otherworthless warriors?  You Kodiaks acted so superior for so long.  And yet you were defeated so easily."

He grits his teeth and ignores the taunting.  He'll hear this again and again, for the rest of his life.  History favours the winners, and no one will consider how hard and long this battle was.  They won't remember that his mother died surrounded by the bodies of those she'd killed.  This swine and his bloodline, they all think superiority is marked by broken alliances.  The Kodiak knew better.  The petty jealousies of these scum are merely an indication of poor genetics.  True superiority is found in not allowing for irrational emotions to control one's actions.

The other feints closer, quickly, but does not actually attack.  Coward.

"Are you wondering where we're taking you?  It's a mine.  You look strong, but with your genetic legacy, I doubt you'll survive there long."

The destination is not exactly a surprise.

* * * *

He should try to escape.  He's checked the box over and over, but the only way out is through the door.  He can hear guards talking behind it.  Two are always there when the door opens.  He may be strong, buthe's no match for two adults, even ones with inherent deficiencies.  They'd probably kill him, or at least break some bones.  If he arrives at the mine unhealthy, he'll either be killed or left to die.  He needs to keep whole.

Sometimes this drive for survival grates on him.  Part of him wants to lash out, even if it leads to his own death.  That is probably what they are hoping he'll do.

Survival requires keeping a reign on his emotions.  They may be jealousy-driven scum, but  he has more control than that.

Instead, he thinks of long-range plans that could one day bring down their houses.  The plans help to keep back the memories of cries, howls and weapons-fire around him.

* * * * 

It's so dark, and all he can think is that if only he could see better, he would be more efficient.  His skin feels sticky, a mixture of sweat and the blood of others.

The vegetation is thick, and he keeps tripping as he moves.  His father ignores the mistakes, and he's grateful that today at least, his technique is not being berated.  He's good for his age, but he still has more to learn

Beyond the trees, he can see weapons fire, large and small.  They're tracking some of the invaders who fled past the compound and into the woods.  His mother had grinned fiercely at him and together they had followed.

He's always thought of her as magnificent, and today he's even more convinced.  He wonders if his father knows how fortunate he was to find her as a mate.

The invaders are making an inordinate amount of noise, just one more sign of their poor abilities.  His mother snorts quietly from time to time, disparaging.    Quickly, she pulls him down, and twists his face to the side.  Squinting, he can see the faint movement of one male.

"Go," she whispers.  "To the right.  I'll take left."  He nods against her hand, and glances behind, where his father is melting into the deepest shadows.  He gets up and moves as silently as possible.  They come upon the invader almost together, and dispatch him quietly. It's the eighth kill they've made together tonight.  He doesn't know how many she killed on her own.  She grins her feral grin again, teeth glinting with the faintest of light.  His face returns the sentiment.

Anasazi, favoured of the Kodiak pride.

They slip among the shadows, following the direction of his father.  After a few moments of moving, he misjudges the ground and stumbles.  He manages to keep quiet as he falls, landing against something warmand wet.  He smells blood, fresher than that already on him.  Another invader dead.  He wonders if it is the work of his father.  Behind him are new, odd, muted noises, and as he turns to see, light shines down on him, blinding.  He hisses at his mother to turn it off.  Laughter answers him, dark and rich.

His father.

His night vision returns.  Not his father.  He's lying on his father's body.

The invaders surround him.  The one with the laughter and the light holds his mother by the hair.  She's been eviscerated.  A few bodies lie beyond her.

Ambush.

He wakes up, sweating.  He relives it every night.

* * * * 

The next time the door opens, two enter.  He gets to his feet as quickly as possible, but they're healthier and faster.  He hasn't eaten adequately in days, and his agility has decreased with the cold and lack of regular exercise.  A foot connects with his gut, and even as he reaches out to grab and twist it, something heavy comes down on his head.

The box starts to fade, and all he can think is 'Cowards'.

He wakes up to the mine.  Seven days of careful observation, inadequate food, brutal work and physical abuse tell him everything he needs to know.  There's no escape.  The only way out is if they think you're dead.

He starts to contemplate scenarios.  He has an ambush to repay and a name to rebuild.