Chapter 1 – Dingo

Nome, Alaska

Late 1928

The first snow of winter begins to slowly and gently descend during the Alaskan twilight of dusk.  This is nothing special to the residents of Nome, or of any other Alaskan town for that matter.  Those who live here are very familiar with snow, as it falls almost year-round.  They are all aware of how calm the snow can be, as well as how treacherous, how it can kill, and how it can heal. 

There is one Alaskan who knows these things especially well, perhaps more than anyone.  Day after day he fights the duplicity of his heritage, stuck between the shimmering lights of Nome’s many houses against the building snow, and the trees of the wilderness that arbitrarily cast their mysterious labyrinthine shadows  against the same form of mass on the ground.  He has saved a town of ill-stricken children as well as a downed bush plane pilot and even gotten the girl of his dreams, but he has not been able to prevent his children from growing up.

Not a dog, not a wolf.  All he knows is what he’s not. 

He also doesn’t know that there’s someone else out there, among the gradually dimming glow of Nome as the night falls, that is about to feel his pain.

- - - - -

“Harold, we’ve been fighting and fighting to keep him for Kyle, but we just can’t anymore!  Look at him, he’s not even a dog anymore!”

“Katherine, we knew the consequences of taking him in when we got him.  Kyle loves that dog, we can’t just toss him out on the street.”

“What kind of message are we sending to Kyle by letting him befriend a wild animal?  That THING needs to get out of here!”

“Karen-“

“Kyle sweetie…your doggie’s got to go now.”

“Dingo?  But why?”

“We just can’t take care of him anymore.”

“But-“

“Come on Dingo, out!”

The front door of an Alaskan home in the center of Nome was then swung open, planting the bright yellow light from inside across the snow-covered ground as well as the buildings on the street side opposite to it.  The dark shadow of a woman stood in the doorway, clutching the thick brown leather collar of her boy’s dog and tossing the full-grown animal as such out over the few descending wood steps and face-first into the already-deep snow of the street.  The dog in question regained his footing, after slipping a bit on the snow that is.  He didn’t hear the parents’ conversation and ultimate decision, and therefore didn’t understand why he was being sent on his way.  He just sat in the snow, ears drooped and looking up to the shadows inside the home with pleading eyes.  Another shadowy figure, this one much smaller and less menacing, came to the doorway and tried to rush outside to his canine companion.  Alas the figure was stopped by his mother’s arm, and he was stuck there in tears as he looked outside to meet eyes with his friend.  Both their eyes were a dark brown.

“Dingo!  Don’t go!” the child pleaded, reaching out an arm in a fruitless attempt to touch his dear friend again.

“I’m sorry Kyle, but we can’t keep your dog anymore!  We should have known it was only a matter of time before the WOLF in him began to show.  He’s gotten too big and he’s eating us out of house and home!”

The dog outside was left flinching and wincing at every stressed word from the mother, foolishly comforted with the hopes that the child’s words will change her mind.

“Mom, please!  Let me keep him!”

“No Kyle!  He’s gone and that’s final, now go back inside!  Go!”

The bigger mother shadow ushered her child back inside, then turned back to the dog still staring at her.

“And what are you looking at?  You don’t live here anymore!  Go away, shoo!”

She then finalized his separation from the family by slamming the door and turning off the lights inside, leaving the once humble housedog named Dingo alone in the dark cold snow.

He remained sitting there for a while, not sure what to do.  Nearly all his life that was his family, and now he had been disowned.  Moments later he began to move his head and look around, watching the lights go out in house after house as the sun was overwhelmed by the darkness of nighttime out in the distance.  His gaze gradually lowered down to the wooden pillars that raised some of the houses and buildings somewhat off the ground, his previous residence included, hence the two or three steps to get up to the door.  His attention descended further, down to the snow and the thick leather collar lying gently on it.  As he was thrown outside it must have come unlatched and separated from his neck, he looked to his now bare neck to be sure.  The night sky further darkened his red and tan fur, which was damp with snow in places and a rustled mess where his collar used to be.  He returned to the collar, noticing the round silver license attached to it that simply read ‘DINGO’ in capital letters. 

“Well…I guess I won’t be needing this now…”

Despite this realization, he clutched the collar in his jaw and got up.  At last he began to tread slowly through the street of Nome, passing by one of the last lit houses as the emanating light from the window illuminated Dingo’s face to its natural colors.  Still clutching the collar if more loosely, he looked up into the window to watch a human mother tuck in her child and kiss him goodnight.  Like pouring salt into a wound, or more drastically onto a slug, this sight shot him directly in the heart.  He wanted to be embraced by his boy, Kyle.  He wanted back the home that he so abruptly lost, but instead he was alone for the first time in his life.

Because of the unfamiliar situation, uncertainty was bound to follow.  Dingo wasn’t sure where to go.  There was of course his mother Jenna, but as he looked off to her home on the edge of town he found their lights already out.  His mother was kind, but the other residents of her home likely wouldn’t take kindly to his presence so late at night.  He now had to think of other options, his gold-based eyes scanning the surroundings again or perhaps still.

It was at that moment that Dingo remembered his father…or, at least, what his mother had told him regarding his other parent.  He hasn’t even seen his dad since he was adopted, for as you can imagine Kyle’s mother did not take too kindly to his appearance.  Therefore, it became his mother Jenna’s job to keep him reminded, telling him what his father looked like as well as the good deeds he had done.  As he looked on, even past Jenna’s house and into the wilderness, the fading lights of Nome made clear the visibility of a light off in the distance.  Dingo was told that his father lived out there, on a wrecked old ship of all things.  With no other conceivable options, he began to tread off again and follow the light.

Dingo passed through and eventually left far behind the outskirts of town, treading the snow of the unclaimed wilderness until eventually the old ship came into view.  Having followed the luminous and omnipresent glow, rather the only trace of significant light left that turned out to be a lantern hung on the ship itself, he paused to simply enjoy the visibility.  In the light he remembered the vessel.  He had seen the old wreck before off in the distance when Kyle and other members of his family walked him, but he never gave the ship on frozen water much thought before now.  The winter snow still cold as it was mashed under his paws, he pressed on closer and closer to the vessel.  Dingo strafed his head to observe both sides of the ship, but could see no point of entry.  It seemed as though he would have to ask.  He dropped the collar purposely, looked up to the pointed front of the ship as he was not sure where else to look, and called out words he never thought he would use to actually address the figure they represented.

“D-…Dad?”

He paused afterwards.  No answer seemingly.  He must be on the other side, or at least farther in.  He called again, a little louder but still with uncertainty.

“Dad?”

The wolf-dog lurched in his sleep, tangled in the thin and flimsy purple sheet that kept him warm on the winter nights.  At last what was actually the third call came to his ears, and in response one of his gold-edged hazel eyes opened and looked around.  The other soon followed and matched the directional gaze of the other eye, then his head and neck followed their example.  A fourth call, being the second one to reach his ears, convinced his legs to lift him up.  He slowly and cautiously padded out of the sheltered area of the ship, pressing foot on the snow-covered open remainder and continuing over to the edge of the vessel itself to peer over and forward.  The light illuminated some of the ground below but he didn’t have the right angle to see who was calling for him.  A third call, this time using the words “is anyone there” rather than addressing the ship’s one present resident as a father, allowed Balto to more accurately pinpoint the source: directly in front of the boat.  Continuing, paw after paw in a cautious rhythm of creaking planks, the wolf-dog crept