Dur was a very large planet. At one time millions of people lived on Dur, but that was before they fell under the boot of the emperor and the Empire. Dur had been enslaved by an officer of the emperor for ten years. He was a psychopath—a murderer and a serial rapist. He engaged in these crimes often, and he enjoyed it. His name was Evan Kluth. Now there were only fifteen thousand people left on Dur, and they had been herded into the town of Port Hope.

Ten-year-old Nikkola Weston had just watched her parents die. Twelve Empire troops in black uniforms had just come to take her sister Tabitha as a slave. Tabitha was seventeen years old. She was a tall, thin girl with very pale skin and long, red hair. Their father, William Weston, taught the local school children in Port Hope. Tabitha taught there too, and William Weston thought that his position would give him some leverage with the Empire. He was wrong, and he would pay for this misunderstanding with his life.

When Evan Kluth arrived at their home one morning with the intention of taking Tabitha as a slave, William had pointed out his position in the only large town left on Dur. He had pointed out the need for Tabitha to teach. Evan Kluth didn't care. He handcuffed a terrified Tabitha Weston, and he started for the door. William Weston had grabbed Evan Kluth, but Kluth turned and cut William Weston's throat with his sword. Then he slit a pleading Catherine Weston's throat for good measure. "There girl," snarled Evan Kluth, "now there won't be anybody here to miss you or for you to miss."

Evan Kluth's intelligence report was wrong. It did not even mention Nikkola. If he had even looked around the home, he would have known about Nikkola. There were several places he could have looked, and he would have found Nikkola's name or people who knew her, but he never did. Arrogant people are often that way. Somebody who knows everything can't be told anything.

Tabitha Weston looked toward the secret place as she was led out the door. "Please," she begged. "I just want one last look." Kluth's answer was a slap across the face. But Nikkola had seen her sister look toward her.

Nikki had been in the back of the house when Kluth and his men burst in through the front door. The entrance to the secret place was from a back room. Nikki slid the secret panel shut, and she watched through the cleverly hidden peephole. She knew better than to make a sound, even when Kluth killed her parents, but she was terrified. She huddled on the floor for an hour after the house became quiet.

Nikkola finally crept out of her hiding place. Her parent's bodies were in the living room; blood was all over the floor. Nikkola cradled her Mother's head in her arms, and she wept. That was how she was when Ellen Bannon found her.

Ellen Bannon was Nikkola's next-door neighbor. Ellen cradled the sobbing Nikki in her arms. She had seen the Empire troops come, and she had seen them leave with Tabitha. Ellen had feared the worst. She picked up Nikkola and said, "Come, child, we have to leave this place."

Ellen carried Nikki out of the back door of the Weston residence to the back door of her house. Breathing hard, she lay Nikki on the couch. Then she closed all of the shades and lit a small candle.

Nikkola watched from the couch in the gathering darkness as Ellen went around closing the shades. Nikki had sat on that couch hundreds of times. Ellen Bannon had been her babysitter when she was younger. Nikkola felt comfortable there. Nikkola felt safe there.

In the dark of the night Nikki woke up. There were two men talking with Ellen Bannon. "Ellen, even if you raise Nikkola, the slavers will come for her," said the big man.

"What do you want me to do?" screamed Ellen. She was starting to cry.

"I don't know," said John Montaigne. The slavers had taken his daughter Mysti the year before.

"She isn't safe here," said Daniel Tucker. "You know the fate that awaits her if she stays here." Daniel's daughter, Elizabeth, had been taken at the same time as Mysti Montaigne.

"So she has to go into the wilderness?" asked Ellen.

"Do you see any other chance for her?" asked John Montaigne.

"But she is only a child," protested Ellen Bannon.

"This may be her only chance," said Daniel Tucker.

"I'm not afraid," said ten-year-old Nikkola Weston. She had gotten up when she heard the voices.

"But you are just a child," said Ellen Bannon. Ellen put her arms around Nikkola protectively.

"They killed my mom and my dad. They took my sister, and I will never see her again. I would say that my childhood is over." Nikkola's voice was dead. "Besides," Nikkola went on, "I don't want you to have to put my picture on a wall with Elise and Denise, and I surely don't want you to die like my parents did."

John Montaigne looked at the child. "Nikkola, Mr. Tucker and I buried your parents. I thought that you might like to know that they have been buried properly. I'm so sorry."

Nikkola hugged the big man, "Thank you, Papa Montaigne." Everyone knew John Montaigne as Papa Montaigne, owner of Papa Montaigne's restaurant.

"What do you want to do, Nikki?" asked John Montaigne.

"I want to live," said Nikkola. "I never want to be a slave. I never want to see someone I love die because of me."

"We'll plan for a couple of days," said John Montaigne. "We'll get you what you need, and I will go into the wilderness with you to help you get started. Okay?" Nikki nodded her head.

John Montaigne turned to Ellen Bannon. "Remember, Ellen. Nikki cannot go outside. Don't tell anyone that she is here. I don't think Kluth knew about Nikki. Normally if he kills one person in the house, he kills them all." They all knew of other ten-year-old children who had been killed.

"I'll be back tomorrow after dark," said John Montaigne.

Ellen Bannon held Nikkola for a while, and then Nikki went back to bed. That night Nikki dreamed of the Bannon twins, Elise and Denise. Nikkola had never met them. They had been taken before she was born. She had never dreamed of them before, but, then again, her parents had never been killed before.

In her dream, Elise and Denise were sitting next to each other in a row of chairs in a room full of rows of chairs. People were coming and going all around them. The faces of the people were indistinct. One of the twins looked right at her, got out of her chair, and walked toward her. "You will be okay, Nikki," said the twin. As Nikkola awoke with a start, she could swear that she'd felt the girl touch her face.

The next morning Nikkola helped Ellen make breakfast. Nikki cooked the bacon.

"Nikki, how much did your parents teach you about cooking?" asked Ellen.

"Oh, a few things," Nikki said. "I'm going to have to learn really quickly."

Ellen gave Nikkola a thin book. It was the ABCs of Cooking.

"Thank you," said Nikki as she hugged Ellen. "Mrs. Bannon, what were the twins like?" asked Nikkola.

Ellen Bannon looked at the ceiling for a moment. Then she bit her bottom lip with her upper teeth. Then she looked Nikkola in the eyes and smiled. "My girls were kind," she said. "They were smart, and they were beautiful. Everyone loved the twins—most of all, their father. I miss them. I hope they are well. The Empire killed their father that day. The only reason that I am alive is that I was not at home when it happened. I never even got to see them one last time." Tears were rolling down her face now.

Nikkola put her fork down and hugged Ellen. "I'm sorry," said Nikki. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just curious, that's all."

They spent the rest of the day in the kitchen. Ellen showed Nikkola what all the pans and knives were for. She showed Nikki all of the spices and explained to her which ones she could grow. Ellen put seeds in small plastic bags and labeled them. She gave Nikkola a small sewing kit.

That night after dark John Montaigne came. He brought a backpack for Nikkola. In it he had put two complete sets of clothes for her—jeans and sweatshirts, nothing fancy. He had also brought a photo of Nikkola's family. That started her crying.

John had also packed a hunting knife, a hatchet, and a small bottle of nail polish. There were a lot of matches and three fire starters. John wasn't sure how long they would last, but he was hoping that she would get several months use out of each. He had also packed a small first aid kit and a book entitled How to live in the Wilderness. He had also included a small thermal blanket, a plastic poncho, and a canteen that clipped onto the thick leather belt he had bought her. He had hooked fifty feet of rope to her backpack along with a two-quart metal pan with a bail. He had even included a hundred feet of fishing line and a small assortment of hooks. He showed her how to tie the hooks onto the line. She put her herb seeds and sewing kit and cookbook in the backpack.

The next night John Montaigne and Nikkola left Port Hope on foot. They took the old road to Dawbry. John was hoping that they could get to Dawbry by dawn, where they could sleep. It was too risky for Nikkola to be seen by strangers. It didn't take them long to reach the outskirts of Port Hope. After another half mile by starlight, John Montaigne began to talk. "Remember, Nikki, food, clothing, and shelter are your most important priorities. Stay away from people. That's your best bet to stay alive. Try to keep your feet dry, and remember, it is spring now, but winter will be here before you know it. You will have to cut plenty of wood so it will be dry."

John taught Nikki some of the constellations so that, on a starlit night, she could navigate. They ate dried beef and hard biscuits as they walked. Nikkola was a good traveling companion. She kept pace with John and never once complained. She had set her mind to this task, and any questions that she asked pertained to that task. They reached Dawbry with two hours left before dawn, and they were well clear of Dawbry when the sun came up. They were well on their way to the next town, which was Exter when they stopped. John and Nikki left the road and slept in the densest brush they could find, protected from the light of the sun. Bees buzzed in the late spring sunshine as they slept.

They passed through Exter shortly after dark. Only a couple of hundred people still lived in that town. The next town was Hewe, and it was deserted. By now, they were some thirty miles from Port Hope. They were at the edge of the wilderness. The road went on, but there were trees down across it. Grass and weeds were growing through abandoned pavement. Nature was reclaiming its own. John Montaigne went another twenty miles on the road with Nikkola. After they walked through another deserted town, after four full days on into their journey, they felt safe enough to travel by day.

At dawn the next day Nikkola made ready to set off by herself. "You're certain you still want to do this, Nikki?" asked John Montaigne.

"I don't see any other way. If I die out here, at least I won't be a slave. And I won't get someone else killed."

"I'm sorry, Nikki."

"I am too. But we didn't choose it. The Empire did."

"I have some things for you." He had been carrying a ten-pound bag of flour, some salt, some sugar, a small bag of dried beef, and some tea. They managed to pack it all in her backpack. "I want you to take this too." It was the single-bladed ax that he had been carrying. He gave her a sharpening stone too.

"Tell you what, Nikkola, you take this too." He took off his watch. "This should run fine for a couple of years. It has the time, date, and day. I will meet you here in one year." John marked a tree with his hatchet. "May God go with you." He held Nikki tenderly.

Nikkola smiled bravely at John Montaigne, and she turned and resolutely set off farther into the wilderness. Nikki took one of the trails that went off the old road and continued her journey away from Port Hope, away up into the hills. She was in a hurry to put as much distance as she could between herself and the Empire, and she was making almost fifteen miles a day. She slept at night high in a tree, roped in for safety. When she figured that she had come about fifty miles, she started looking for a place to stay.

She came across a small lake high in the hills. The water was cool and clean, and the shoreline was sand. She walked around the lake until the prevailing winds blew at her back. Large trees grew to within twenty feet of the lake, and there was very little underbrush. About thirty feet from the lake there was a solid rock cliff. There was a cave in it. The entrance was big enough that Nikkola knew she would still be able to get into it when she was bigger. More importantly, the cave appeared to be unoccupied—but it was too dark to see. She found a dead tree not too far from the entrance to the cave. She hacked off enough branches to build a fire as far beyond the entrance as she dared to go. By the light of the fire, she could see that the cave was about forty feet square. There was only one entrance. Smoke from the fire went up, but it didn't fill the cave. There was a natural vent somewhere above her, but she could not see it. She spent the rest of the day cutting firewood and piling it against a wall on the inside of the cave.

She rolled some large rocks to the entrance of the cave and blocked it as much as she could. Then, from the inside, she blocked the rest of the entrance with some smaller, irregularly shaped stones. She brewed some tea and ate some dried beef. She read from her books for a while by the firelight and went to sleep under her thermal blanket, holding on to the picture that John Montaigne had given her of her family. She could hear animals prowling around in the dark outside of the cave, but she knew that they couldn't get at her. She knew they were mainly quill pigs and ringtails. The next morning when Nikkola awoke she felt the best she had felt since her parents had been killed. She had spent the night dreaming of a great golden dragon, and that had comforted her. She stirred the fire, which had not gone completely out, and made tea and ate some more dried beef. She washed in the lake with the one bar of soap that she had and then dried off by the fire shivering. A towel would be nice. She thought. She combed out her long red hair and made it into a ponytail as it dried.

Then she explored. There was a small stream that came down the hillside about a hundred feet farther on. She followed it upstream until she came to a large meadow. The ground cover in the meadow was mostly clover, and there were bees everywhere. Nikki cut into the dirt with her ax and found that the soil there was very rich. She would garden there, but that would be later. Now, putting to use the information she'd read in the book John Montaigne had given her, she set a snare at one of the many game trails that she had seen during her exploration.

She found a thicket by the stream. The plant stalks grew long and straight, each one a little thicker than a pencil. Nikki cut thirty of them and took them back to her cave. She laid them out on the beach to dry in the sun. Those of them that warped she would use for something else. As they dried, she planned to bring them in every night so that they would not be wet with dew in the morning.

Nikki had some tea and a hard biscuit. She put more wood on the fire, and then she went to cut more wood. She would cut wood every day until the snow came. She figured that it would be better to have too much wood rather than not enough. Nikkola Weston would become very strong from cutting wood.

She had a couple of hours before dark so she decided to try fishing. She had brought a small bag of grubs and worms back from the meadow. Nikki unraveled as much line as she thought she could use and threw her baited hook some thirty feet into the lake. She let the bait sink and then she brought it in slowly making sure that the line didn't tangle. Nikkola had not brought in five feet of line, when something grabbed her bait. She brought it in hand over hand. The fish was silvery and spotted. It was some twenty inches long and weighed about two pounds.

That night Nikkola had her first home-cooked meal. She had fresh fish that was slightly pink when it was done cooking. She also made some pan bread. She read for a while in the firelight. She put a few more logs on the fire. She said a prayer of thanks and went to sleep.