touched his nose to Aniu’s shoulder, lifting a forepaw and rubbing her side.

“Nothing, Balto,” Aniu replied, gasping between breaths. “I’m just…just…tired.”

“Why are you tired, though, Mom?” Balto continued. “Let’s go!” He began to run off, curving between the trees that dotted the lichen-covered ground.

Lyrie put forward a forepaw a few seconds later, and Balto tripped, tumbling into the moss. “Don’t be an idiot, Balto,” she said. “Let Mom rest. She just ran who-knows-how-far, and I’m sure carrying us didn’t make it much easier.” She whimpered slightly as another bolt of pain shot through her cheek.

It was several minutes before the pain subsided enough for Aniu to stand. She stumbled to her feet and hung her head, placing her tail between her hind legs. “Stay here,” she told Balto and Lyrie, and she slunk off into the twilight forest.

Aniu’s path took her north, toward one of the mountains that loomed over the Alaskan tundra. Almost twenty minutes passed before she came to a cliff that looked to be a few hundred feet high. A shallow stream shimmered far below, little more than a glittering tendril in the dim light. She stared down—so far down—and eyed the relative blackness.

Why am I here, she thought, and not down there? What did I do to deserve this? I put all my effort into living a good life, and what happens? My mate died, my daughter died; Balto and Lyrie might be dying! And all this is because of me! If I hadn’t been born, I never would have met Sango, and he wouldn’t be dead. Ara wouldn’t be dead. Galena wouldn’t be gone. None of this would have happened if I wasn’t born!

She tore herself away from these thoughts and continued to stare into the darkness, contemplating her next actions. She glanced over her shoulder and was the red moon low on the horizon, bordering the smothering blackness of the sky and surrounding forest. Taking a few steps backward, Aniu turned back to again face the edge of that cliff, which was now almost invisible in the dim light of the scarlet moon.

Then she sighed. “I know I’ll regret this,” she whispered to herself.

She stepped forward.

The toes of her forepaws hung over emptiness when a shrill scream ran through the air: “Mom! No!”

Aniu struggled to stop her forward momentum as she recognized the voice as belonging to Lyrie. She swung her head around to see Lyrie emerge from the woods and enter the clearing, followed closely by Balto.

But it could not be enough—she still felt herself rushing forward, falling….

XXV

Suddenly, time stood still. Suddenly Aniu was crawling over the edge. The stars visible in the dark sky lazily drifted by and the shadows and forms of her pups were almost unmoving. Aniu heard a voice call desperately for Balto and Lyrie—a foreign voice, seemingly detached from physical reality. The voice was urgent and yet disappointed, rushed and yet dragged out over several seconds. It was ghostly, ethereal. It was not her own.

Yet even as she heard the voice, Aniu realized that it was her own—her lips formed the words, her mind longed for life, her consciousness formed the uncontrollable instinct to survive. And she was still falling.

Soon, Aniu became aware that there was no way Balto and Lyrie could reach her in time. They were too far away; her own head and chest now hung over the void, her forelegs grasping at empty space. And she was still falling.

Memories began flooding her panicked mind. She saw the image of her father’s broken body, saw herself will the body to dissolve, saw the corpse break into mist and drift away. She saw the black shadow envelop her, cutting and slashing at her until she was little more than a bleeding shred of life. She saw Sango, remembered when they became mates. She saw the Shiok, she saw Soren, heard his repeated encouragement through Anok’s constant torment. She saw Shiraea’s snarling face, saw the mangled mess of Sango’s face, again felt the uncontrollable rage that had pulsed through her veins. She relived that bloody battle to the death, those bloody, burning wounds, that victory when Shiraea was finally defeated—that vengeance toward the lives that could never be reclaimed. Now she was here once again, on this cliff. And she was still falling.

Aniu whirled around to glance at her pups, saw Balto’s jaws clasp around the tip of her tail, felt the slight tug as her momentum decreased ever so slightly. But to her dismay, it was not enough—Balto was pulled along with her, and now they were both going to die. And she was still falling.

It was at that instant that one final memory came to Aniu—something Sango had told her just after they had met: The moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you die. She felt a sense of warmth come over her then, a feeling she recognized instantly. It was the feeling Sango’s presence had brought to her life, the love that he had shown her and given her, the love that outlasted the husky’s death.

Now, when she knew she should be afraid, panicked, terrified that she and Balto were going to die, Aniu was calm and composed. The edge of the cliff still retreated farther away every second; the ground grew nearer with every passing moment. Aniu felt the rush of air buffet her fur, and she contently closed her eyes. At least she would die in peace.

But soon Aniu opened her eyes again, for she felt Sango’s warmth once more. For a second time, the world seemed to be still as she realized her fall was slowing. The trickling stream was still far below, and the edge of the cliff was several feet away, but now she was almost stopped in midair, held by some invisible force. Then she heard Sango’s voice, once again repeating his words of all those months ago: I knew I couldn’t let you die.

A glance to her right told Aniu that Balto was also being saved. But her grin of relief vanished as she saw that his eyes were squeezed shut, his ears back, his mouth agape in a sorrowful wail. “Balto….” she tried to say, but her son was evidently oblivious to her call.

It was then that Aniu realized that the ground seemed to be moving farther away. She stole a glance upward and saw Lyrie staring down at them in disbelief. Again, Aniu made an attempt to call to her, again there was no response.

Aniu and Balto continued to rise, held by Sango’s supernatural love for them, but Aniu became worried when she realized that Lyrie still had not moved. The girl’s expression of shock was enough for her to speculate on what had happened. “No,” she whimpered to herself, “don’t tell me she’s….” A tear leaked from her eye and traced a wet path down her cheek. She gazed upward longingly at the stars. “Be safe, Lyrie.”

At last, Aniu saw the edge of the cliff dip below her line of sight. Sango’s power carried her and Balto toward the edge of the clearing, and they gently fell to earth. The moment Aniu’s paw touched the soft ground, she rushed over to Lyrie, fearful of the death of her last daughter. Trepidation overwhelmed her as she stared at Lyrie’s frozen expression, the girl’s eyes wild with terrified shock.

“Lyrie?” Aniu asked tentatively. “Lyrie?” There was no response.

Then she glanced at Balto once again. The sky was nearly black now—the only light came from the moon and stars—and al she could make out was her son’s silhouette, hunched over and still sobbing heavily.

Sighing, Aniu turned back to Lyrie and licked her daughter’s cheek.

The moment her wet tongue touched Lyrie’s cold fur, Aniu jumped, startled, as Lyrie suddenly twitched.

Now fully conscious, Lyrie turned to her left. She yelped when she saw her mother, stepping backward as she did so. “M-mom—you—you’re…a-alive? B—but…h-how?” Lyrie stared at her mother, bewildered.

“Yes,” Aniu replied. “Thank you. If not for you, I would be dead.” She knelt down and licked the top of Lyrie’s head.

XXVI

Lyrie was still confused. “But—but what…what did I do? I didn’t save you from the cliff. You fell, and then you were right here. What happened? It’s like you—like you teleported or something.” She violently shook her head. “No, I must be going crazy or something.”

“No, dear,” Aniu told her daughter. “Sango saved me from the cliff. I think he only did it, though, because you tried to save me.”

Lyrie glanced at her mother quizzically and continued to stare at the ground.

Aniu sighed. “You don’t know it, Lyrie, but I had given up on life. I’ve done everything I though I could do to make my life worthwhile, but then Sango died. Galena is off doing who-knows-what with Duran, and I thought you and Balto might be dying. But you followed me. Why did you follow me, Lyrie?”

Lyrie sat and was silent for a moment before answering. “I thought you’d be back soon. When you didn’t come back, Balto and I started to get worried, and I decided to follow you. I saw you about to jump, so I tried to save you.”

 She buried her head in her forepaws. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No,” Aniu said. “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you saved my life.” She rubbed her muzzle against Lyrie’s cheek. “I love you, Lyrie.”

Lyrie lifted her head. “Love you