Flashes of white threaten to consume your vision.

A blinding flurry of snow, and a forced decision

The great paws of a wild, motherly howler

A small hybrid bundle, caught right in her jowls

Cries from a pup, so fragile and confused

Tears for a son, she is going to lose

Blended into the madness, the mother screams out.

Dropping the infant, who crawls under the shout

She sees a big vessel just to the left.

A boat most would call it, but safety from death

She considers it, bows, and closes her eyes.

The water is building, the wind, snow, and ice.

She desperately clings to the unknowing toddler:

Nuzzling, licking, and hoping nature would stop her.

But everything is cruel as most come to see.

And now she must fight to just turn and leave.

She moves her body against the cold pup

Who is now being sheltered by some kind of duck.

He takes the small wolfdog into his wings,

And calls to the mother but one last thing.

“What is his name?” he calls to the wind.

“Balto, my son,” She answers in kin.

Her mass disappears straight into the trees

Knowing nothing but that, her son she must leave…