he go?

“Balto!” Boris called. He had been searching for hours. All he ever found were tracks. It seemed like he was making no progress, and he was growing frustrated. The goose mounted the crest of a hill and saw the tracks went straight ahead for a distance. He decided to run for a spell to warm himself. Soon, he came upon a cluster of tracks from many different canines. The Russian snow goose lapsed into his native tongue in frustration. "Eto bezrassudstvo! Chto s nim sluchilos'? On khochet sovsem zamerznut'?†" The goose stood in place for several minutes calming down and clearing his mind.

He eyed the tracks again; they were those of wolves, Boris could tell that much, for they were very like Balto's, though perhaps more pronounced; and they joined Balto’s from the east, then turned North. He noticed a lone set of tracks that turned west, and quite sure they belonged to Balto, he elected to follow them.

The goose surveyed his surroundings, and didn’t like them. The snow was coming down quite heavy now, with strong winds blowing it every which way, and it would be a matter of minutes before Balto’s tracks disappeared. No time to lose. The goose broke out in a run, or whatever a goose may call a run.

Balto walked aimlessly through the snow storm, not caring where he wandered. The cold was sinking into him. His legs had gone numb, and he could barely feel his own head. In the darkness the storm cast, he tripped over a rock, quite hidden under the fresh snow. Balto hit the ground hard, and realized it had not hurt; he was too numb to feel it. He noticed a warm feeling over him. It felt so good, so comforting. "This is it. I'm done." He closed his eyes.

Balto became aware of a sensation of being jostled back and forth. He could hear something; very faint, but familiar. Everything was muffled. "Why can't I see?" he wondered. Then it occurred to him that he must be sleeping. With some difficulty, he opened his eyes. He saw a dark world around him. It was snowing very hard, and a sharp wind blew mercilessly about. Through the snow, a face appeared; the face of a snow goose. Boris!

The goose was frantically slapping Balto's face and shaking his head shouting, "Balto! Wake up! Come on, Boychick! Don't do this to me now! Balto!"

Bewildered, Balto tried to speak, but all that would come out were groans. He was so numb, his body would not obey him.

Boris, seeing the fruits of his efforts, reduced his frantic shaking of Balto's head to a gentle rousing. "Come on, come on. Wake up!

At last Balto found his voice. Faintly, he asked, "Boris, what are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you same question! Get up! Must find shelter!"

"No!" Balto shouted, though due to his half frozen condition, it sounded more like a statement. "Leave me."

The goose looked incredulously at Balto, "Have you lost your mind? We have to get you back to Nome!"

"There's... nothing for me... there."

Boris' eyes widened. This was not the wolf-dog he knew. Balto was a hopeful, energetic personality; but that was nowhere to be found in this half frozen shell.

"They all... hate me." Large tears welled up in Balto's eyes. "There's no reason... the dogs, the people... the wolves. None of them want me. I have… no reason to live."

Something died in Boris. It frightened him to see his friend like this. No man or beast should ever be that way, yet here was Balto, wholly broken and hopeless, seeing death as the only way out. Boris embraced Balto's head in the best hug he could muster, given the situation, and began consoling his friend. "It's alright, Balto. It's going to be alright." The goose rocked back and forth, caressing Balto's head as a mother or father would their infant. "Everybody's got a reason to live, Balto."

Balto quivered, "Why can't I think of one?"

"Balto," Boris retracted his head a short distance, but maintained a tight hold on the wolf-dog, as if it would keep him from slipping away, "you just have not found it yet. But you will, Boychick. You will. Just got to keep looking. It's there. No one knows what the future holds. Things may seem bad now, but they'll change. They always do."

Balto shivered again. It made him sick to think of what might have been.

"Oh, Balto," Jenna sighed as she nuzzled him affectionately.

"When I fell into the lake, and I was trapped under the ice, that day was all I could think of. I just knew I was going to die, but Boris was right." Balto smiled. "I did find my reason to live."

"And what's that?"

"I really don't think I could go on if Rosy had died. She is the only human who saw past my lineage." He looked Jenna in the eye, "and you were the only dog. Thank you."

This is a work of fiction. Any depiction of real persons or events is purely coincidence.

Inspired by the art of Oha.

Cover Art © Oha.

Story © xArcticGx 2013.

Written with permission from Oha.

All characters © Universal.

†English-Phonetic Russian dialog courtesy of Oha. ------ “This is foolishness! Where is he going? Does he want to freeze?”