reluctant to embrace the inevitable. He gingerly walked up to the veterinarian’s office, limping as he did so.
Kodi happened to be walking past at that moment, and when he saw his father nearby, he walked up to him. “Hey, Dad!” he said. “How’s it go…” And then he noticed  his father’s paw. “Whoa! What happened?”
“Take a nail gun and add Muk and Luk,” Balto said in answer, never slowing his walk.
Kodi winced. “Must have been painful.”
Balto nodded. “I think it’s getting infected; at any rate, it hurts like crazy.”
“Would you like for me to come with you?” Kodi asked, intentionally avoiding eye contact with Balto’s injured paw. “You know, just in case you need help getting there?”
“Nah, I’m fine,” Balto insisted. But almost right after saying it, he remembered the conversation he had with Dingo the day before, and suddenly felt the urge to spend more time with Kodi as well—and all his other children. “Actually,” he amended, “I would like the extra company.”
Kodi’s tail began to wag, and a smile spread across his face. “You mean it?” he asked.
Balto smiled and nodded. “I would love it,” he promised.

That afternoon, as Balto stood at the bow of his boat, watching the sunset, he remembered how, at a different sunset, Aleu had howled at him as a final—eternal—good-bye.
He sighed, and not just because of the huge bandage that now wrapped around his paw. Balto sighed because he missed Aleu.
He remembered how, during the first few months after she had left, Jenna would sometimes cry herself to sleep because she missed her daughter. How, when there were times Balto wanted to share a funny story with Aleu, she was never there. How, during the last few weeks of her second year away, he had felt as if he would rather die than live one more day without seeing his daughter.
And yet, now, he didn’t care. She had chosen—properly chosen, he knew—her fate, and now he would accept it, regardless of his feelings against it. And he would respect her decision, and try to live the best life possible without her.
He continued staring at the sun until it sank below the horizon. After it did, he walked down below the deck, walking into his bedroom.
Muk and Luk were there, nailing another huge board into the window—a board that Kodi had picked up after Balto’s trip to the veterinarian. “Hey, guys,” Balto said, “how’s it going?”
To answer his question, Luk shot another nail into the board, forbidding that section to ever again move so much as an inch.
Balto smiled. “Great, then!” After the bears had finished up, he said, rather mischievously, “Hey, are you two aware that you dug a nail into my foot a few days ago?”
Muk and Luk froze. “Uh…” Muk stammered. Then, in a panic, he and Luk took off running, dropping their guns once more.
Balto briefly saw Muk’s gun discharge and shoot at the board in the window. It bounced off the board and—
“Ow!” Balto yelled, half-howling. He looked down, and groaned when he saw the nail digging into his other front paw.
He sighed, more annoyed than in pain. He started pulling at it with his teeth, and nearly cursed out loud when it didn’t budge.
Jenna appeared in the doorway. “Balto, did you…” She stopped, staring at his paw. “Oh, my gosh. What did you do?”
Balto looked at her. “I didn’t do anything!” Jenna just stared at him, apparently not believing him. “I didn’t!” Balto exclaimed, once again trying to budge the nail free of the floor. “It was Muk and Luk.”
Jenna’s expression didn’t change. “Yeah, right.”
“Really!” Balto yelled, giving the nail one final tug. This time, it came free. He spit the nail into a corner of the room and gave his paw quick look. He gritted his teeth in frustration. “Oh, great. Another trip to the vet.”
Jenna couldn’t help but smile. “Look at the bright side,” she said. “Now you’ll have two identical bandages.”
Balto only sighed.

As noon came the next day, Balto walked out of town with Jenna, a bandage on each of his front paws.
“I hope you’re satisfied, my love,” Balto groaned, trying to ignore the pain that shot up his legs whenever he walked.
“With what?” Jenna asked, unable to hold back the laughter.
“With making a fool out of me, that’s with what,” Balto replied, wincing as he put his other paw down.
“You’re saying it’s my fault that table fell on you?” Jenna asked, her voice one of innocence.
“For one thing, it wasn’t a table; a table would have been softer. It was a toolbox,” Balto corrected. “And you were the one that hit it while I was under it.”
“Well,” Jenna said, her smile remaining, “if I did, it was an accident. And you needed your foot bandaged anyway.”
“I knew it needed a bandage,” Balto argued. “I just wasn’t expecting a pair of tweezers would be needed to get the little nails out.” He winced again, this time just because he remembered the incident all too clearly.
Jenna only laughed.

Food was getting harder to find. Fresh water was even scarcer, and the blizzard continuously blocked Aleu’s vision.
Still she pressed on.
She had now been on her journey for several long weeks, but the days had begun to blur together, to the point where she couldn’t even guess exactly how long she had been at it. She only knew which direction she was heading by following the North Star, which she barely saw more than once every few hours. The days were growing very short, and the amount of daylight she saw decreased rapidly. 
Still, Aleu pressed on.
She followed the sea as best she could, but sometimes she was forced to take detours—usually very long ones. She ate whatever she could find, even settling for fish from the ocean a few times. She was losing weight at an unhealthy rate, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Her muscles screamed at her for a rest, but the more she rested, the greater the risk of her succumbing to the elements.
Aleu would not allow that to happen. She just gritted her teeth and pressed on.
“I will find Nome,” she promised herself out loud; it helped to hear someone speaking, even if it was herself. “I will find Nome, and when I do, I’m going straight to Papa’s home, telling him hello, and falling asleep. And then the next morning, I’m going to go into town, and have the butcher give me the largest slab of meat he’s got. Yeah, that’s something to look forward to.”
The thought of meat waiting for her helped motivate her, but the real push was the fact that she would see her family again—and very soon.
The next time the snow cleared enough, she found herself at the top of a mountain. As she looked down, she saw faint lights on the horizon.
Even from a hundred miles away, Aleu felt that Nome looked close enough to touch.

 CHAPTER 8

BALTO WOKE UP in a sweat. His dreams from the night before would have been enough, but the sun still wasn’t cooperating with him, and had woken him up too early for comfort. Never mind that it was the day before Christmas, and the sun didn’t rise until noon; the sun was still waking him up prematurely.
Balto slowly—and reluctantly—stood up, stretching to relieve the stiffness of his legs. He tried to think about his dreams, and now that he was fully awake, he realized that he did not remember them.
He sighed. This is just not a good week for me.
He shook his head; he wasn’t about to think about it at that moment. He decided to walk outside to see what was going on.
All he found was Boris on the deck, washing it down with his mop. Boris noticed him before he could speak, and said, “Hello, Balto.”
“Afternoon, Boris,” Balto responded after looking at the sun. “How’s your day been?”
“Not too bad,” Boris said. “After all, Muk and Luk are nowhere to be found.” He flung his mop into the air in triumph, catching it as it returned to the ground. He turned back to Balto. “And that is fine with me.”
Balto smiled and shook his head. Then, not knowing why, a question suddenly came into his head. “Hey, Boris, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Boris said absently, setting his mop back into the water-filled bucket. “What is it?”
“Why do you mop the ship every day?”
Boris had to think about it for a few minutes. “Well...to keep it clean, of course,” he finally replied in his slight Russian accent.
“But it’ll get dirty all over again,” Balto argued. “Why do you bother?”
Boris stared at him. “What, are you taking a survey?” When Balto shook his head, Boris asked, “Then why do you visit Jenna every day?”
“Because I love her,” Balto said; he didn’t have to think over his answer like Boris had to for his. “And I visit all my other kids all the time—”
“Except Aleu,” Boris corrected.
Balto nodded. “Except Aleu. But I visit all my other kids all the time, because I love them.”
“And I love my ship,” Boris responded, slapping the floorboards with his wet mop. “This has been my home, and I intend to keep it ship shape, if you pardon the expression. And it has been your home as well, ever since you first came here.” He eyed Balto