how New York ran. At any rate, he continued to watch this strange new place as they drove on.

Julian passed out for a while, loosing track of time and falling into a deep sleep, and soon he was awoken by the shuffling of feet and slamming of car doors. His crate was removed and set onto a dirt driveway, and he felt others being stacked on top of his. He breathed in deep, taking in the new scents of this new place. If he could deduct correctly, for the time they have been traveling, they were far away from Times Square. Very far. Soon they were progressively moved once more, and when they were let out, they experienced a beautiful house, decorated with dark colored wood and floors. It was intricately made, down to the bevel of running wolves on the hearth and the carefully measured and sanded log walls. All seven dogs made their selves right at home, sniffing the deep, earthy scent of the floor and walls and testing out the comfort of the sofas and beds. They watched Cristofor and Therese unpack, moving swiftly and nimbly about the house, occasionally taking money out of the house and coming back with more stuff in bags to put away. Julian found a paper that fell out of Therese’s pocket, and it read: “Welcome to Nome, Alaska! Find a beautiful house today!” On the front it was carefully designed with what looked like a sled with dogs tied to it, mountains, forests, and faces of people that must live here.

They settled in nicely, and by the time they could relax, the sun was setting on the horizon. Oddly enough, they just let the dogs out to roam the town; Julian guessed it was because they were trusted. Outside the log house was the big reveal, and all of his siblings got to meet their father. Julian was feeling slightly proud, since he had gotten to grow up with Nicolai. But that passed sooner or later, and as the sun dipped below the expanse of earth, the family began to explore their new home.

The town was small and quaint, Julian extracted that much from just looking at it. People roved the streets in evening dress and talked and laughed lightheartedly. Dogs congregated in alleyways and talked, told stories, and just acted like dogs. It was a very close knit community, and Julian had a feeling he would really like this place. Away from the hustle of the big city, it was easier to focus on life, meaning, and family. There was a boiler room that seemed like the place that dogs always hung out, that was the place to be as a dog. Julian smiled, he was glad to be very observant. Maybe he could fit right in and skip the awkward accustom process. He laughed at himself with that; there’s no way. But a dog could dream, right? He trotted about the town until the moon was high, and at that time began to make his way back home.  As he walked slowly and with purpose, he couldn’t help but notice a lanky shadow slithering along in the darkness, and he was intrigued. The first thing he thought was: Fletcher. He decided to take a closer look and see what it was all about.

It was, in fact, Fletcher, and he neared very swiftly and quietly so as to not disturb him. As it was, however, Fletcher had learned quickly how to realize when he was being followed, a lifetime of being rejected at work. He swiveled, facing Julian with a low, heart wrenching growl, and Julian took a step back in bewilderment. That same face that had haunted him since his departure was right here in front of him, even more terrifying than before.

This was most assuredly Fletcher, Julian knew that for a fact. His brother had always had a lank and sickly thin body, as well as an almost cat-like walk that would fool anyone into thinking he was just a big feline. His face was very thin as well, his unreadable deep emerald eyes swimming with suppressed secrets. He looked mostly like his mother, where Julian took mainly after his father, and Fletcher could be dirt next to his boyishly handsome diamond brother.

Julian opened his mouth to speak, but the pure rage and hatred on Fletcher’s face kicked the breath straight from his lungs. It was his brother who had the chance to speak.

“What ah you doing ‘ere, rat?” Fletcher spat, eyes swirling with hatred. Julian was taken aback once more, why was his brother speaking this way? He spoke quietly, voice laced with confusion and hurt. “Brother…I’m not sure why you speak dis way to me. V’hat have I done to ‘urt you?” He said, truly unknowing of his actions. His brother looked at the ground in amazement. “You really dun know, do you?” He said quietly, almost to himself.

“You always ‘ave to be better zan me, don’t you?” Fletcher flew quickly back into his rage, obviously working on a short fuse. Julian shook his feathery fur. “V-v’hat?” He stuttered, his strange Russian-laced-French-accent singing into the night. “You were always ze pretty boy, ze favored pooch, and I was trash to zem. Do you ‘ave any idea ‘ow zat feels?” He seethed, eyes swimming with unraveling streams of tears. Julian again opened his mouth to speak, but his brother stopped him. His eyes and fur were streaked with tears, and his eyes were Christmas colored, red and green. “Just don’t, man.” Fletcher said simply, staring into the rising moon. “I hate you.” He said with a cock of his head, eyebrows raised. He then brushed by Julian, hissing at how feathery soft his fur was, and stalked off into the night, most likely not returning home right now.

What seemed like hours later, the feeling rushed back to Julian’s toes and he ran for home, his mind running on overdrive. He suddenly realized why his world had been so upside down since his departure from his mother; deep down inside, all along, he knew that his only brother hated him. Even as a two-month-old pup, his subconscious had recognized that. He suddenly realized that, right now, his two Russian masters were either dead or severely injured, and he had done nothing to stop it. He suddenly realized that he would never experience New York, the place of his birth, ever again. And, most of all, he realized that, with his brother’s uncovered hatred, his life here was bound to be a living hell.

Julian’s first sleep in Alaska was restless, and it lacked the one thing that defined sleep: sleep itself. The next month of his life, moving toward his year-and-a-half birthday, was numb and blurry, like straining to see the bottom of a muddy pond. He woke, ate, and strolled the town, learning the little paths and alleyways, the fastest ways to get where he was going. And then he slept again, in a seemingly never-ending cycle. Months more passed, and he was soon to be two years old.

In the months that had slipped by, Julian had truly become a handsome fellow. He was tall for the average husky, and his body was strapped with lean muscle that rippled as he walked or strained himself. His large eyes became deep and mysterious, hiding secrets and pain and his life’s story. Another curious feature was the small curl of longer fur present upon his head, truly a defining characteristic. His recent reclusive nature made him all the more strange and appealing, and though he didn’t notice, he had a few lady followers around town that were intrigued by him. Things went on smoothly, lazily, as if destiny decided to lay easy on everyone for a while.

In August of 1924, there was a bit of a change of pace. It was all over the news, the long dropped Nome Mail Team had been remade! All of the new dogs were well trained and selected, and everyone had high hopes for the success of this team, finally. Julian blindly greeted them, congratulating the new and spunky members. There was the lead dog, Athena and her large team of seventeen other dogs, including Silver, Sledge, Rita, Demon, Owen, Hachiko, Icess, Kenny, Trent, Kaskae, and more. He really didn’t pay much attention to any of the faces, and soon, they were off for their first run.

In September, 1924, Julian and his siblings officially turned three.  When he woke, he was greeted by a bunch of smiling faces and happy whines and howls. Nicolai urged him to get up and celebrate a bit. After a bit of stretching out, he decided to get up and join the celebratory crowd.

When Cristofor and Therese let them out of the room, they were each given the best gift a dog could ever get: a big, juicy slab of steak. Julian began gnawing violently at his own personal heaven, and while doing that he looked around the room. Afrodille, his boyish sister, was digging in, slurping it down like it was the first meal she had had in months. Julian smiled; if he knew Afro, he knew she was a big eater. Period.

His eyes roved the room further, and settled on quaint little Constance. She was laying down on the floor, biting daintily at the large slab of meat in front of her. Julian chuckled to himself, such a tiny little body working on such a large blob of meat. Next to Julian, Constance was an ant, she was much smaller and lighter than the average husky. She was also very soft and sensitive, easily hurt.

No one else in his family knew this, but Julian just loved Constance. He had always felt this protection over her, this bond with her, but not in a weird way. They were very close as siblings, and he always noted the sadness in her eyes when Julian became remote and unresponsive. The closeness started when he learned that Constance had heard the little spat between him and Fletcher, and she was very concerned for him. Julian accepted her and soon enough, a little of the void ripped open by his brother was healed by his sister. And he would be forever grateful for that.

Julian continued looking through the room. He found his father and mother laying very close together, working side by side at their separate steaks. Julian