man who was obviously this ‘Bill’. Bill peered down at Copper through sharp eagle eyes, hazel in color. He had a wide bald spot on top of his head with a fringe of gray hair around the edge, and he carried a large leather suitcase that had a strange smell, like there were many unusual and exotic substances inside it. Copper concluded this with one sniff.

“He is a fine looking dog,” Bill drawled in a raspy voice, “One of Balto’s pups. The second of four pups in Balto and Jenna’s second litter, if I remember correctly…?”

Johnson’s laugh was too loud as he gave his friend a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Nothing gets past you, Bill!...Hey, I’m sorry I had to drag you over here-”

“Not a problem,” Bill said in chilling tones.

“-but I have a few questions about those…‘contests’ you told me about last night.”

“Yes?”

Johnson cleared his throat, and Copper could see the nervousness building in his gray eyes. “Would Copper be good for those kinds of…‘contests’? He hasn’t seemed to have inherited anything from his father, and we all know that Balto was a prime fighter when he lived on the streets before he became a hero.” Copper’s ears perked up. ‘Fighter’? Why were they talking about Balto’s fighting days? What were these ‘contests’ that Johnson kept talking about? Copper hated to be in the dark about anything, so he listened harder while unconsciously chewing on his right front paw, a habit he had developed when he was concentrating hard on something. Johnson had taken the bandage off his left leg, but it was still tender.

Bill scrutinized Copper with his eagle-sharp eyes. “Like I said, he is a fine looking dog. I’ll bet he’d make it through.” Copper nearly bit through his paw with a sudden flame of curiosity. Make it through WHAT?

“Good,” Johnson said in a relieved tone, grinning at Copper, “Now, when did you say that sled would pass through so Copper and I can get to the…‘contest’?”

“Every night it passes Nome on the right side of town. You’ll have to flag them down somehow, and they’ll hitch up Copper to the sled with the other dogs, or ‘contestants’, as you would probably say, and you will join the other men in the sled…”

That night, Johnson snuck out of the house, firmly tugging Copper by the collar after him. Copper was forced to follow. It was either follow Johnson or choke to death, and the wolf-dog didn’t feel like being a dead dog just yet. The two hurried through the streets to the east side of town. Johnson stopped Copper at the edge of town and looked out at the dark tundra. There didn’t seem to be anything there except snow, a couple trees, and darkness.

“C’mon!” Johnson huffed, drumming his fingers on Copper’s head. “Bill said they pass by around 8:00, and it’s 8:05 now! Did I miss them already?”

Copper, annoyed, pulled away from Johnson’s tapping fingers and snapped at his owner. Johnson raised his hands above his head in mock surrender. “Easy now, boy. You’ll have plenty of time to do that at the place we’re going.” Copper stopped snarling in surprise. Huh? What was Johnson getting at?

A big, dark moving shape could be seen going by owner and dog a few yards away. Johnson snapped to attention and went into a frenzy, waving his arms and shouting. “Over here! Over here! Me and my dog need a ride to the Borealis-”

The sled off in the distance stopped with a jerk. “Keep your mouth shut and climb aboard!” a voice from the sled shouted. Johnson looked pleased with himself and resumed dragging Copper through the snow. Copper growled and rolled his eyes, but quickly went quiet as soon as they neared the huge sled. In front was a bunch of dogs harnessed up with two empty spots, and they pulled a huge sled, or it could be called a sleigh by it’s size and design, where four men stood, one of them driving the sleigh and obviously the one who had shouted.

The driver man jumped down with a grunt and grabbed Copper so fiercely the wolf-dog stumbled again and again as he was dragged to the 5th dog position in the team and buckled in. Copper fought the fat hands and even almost bit the driver’s hand. He hadn’t come all the way out here to be tied up in a harness! But somehow or other he ended up shoved in and hitched up, and he bared his teeth and glared at the driver’s back as the man walked away. Johnson climbed into the sleigh with sharp words from the driver, “Don’t ever say the name of where we’re going out loud! Do you know how many people could have been listening to you scream out here?” The driver climbed back in, and with the crack of the whip over the dogs’ heads the canines pulled the sleigh over the rough terrain, Copper fuming.

To stop, or at least slow, the rush of racing memories with his ex-team parading through his head, Copper tried to figure out where they were going. Johnson had said ‘Borealis’ and then been cut off. Then the driver had told Johnson never to say it aloud again. Copper suddenly realized almost all the dogs on the team had scars running up and down their backs, their legs, their faces. One of the dogs, the dark gray husky in front of Copper, looked back at the wolf-dog in contemplation. There was nothing but anger and pain in the husky’s eyes, and Copper stared at him.

“Hey, kid,” the husky said in a raspy tone, “If you survive tonight, could you pass on this message to other dogs so they can tell my mate, Daisy: ‘If someone’s telling you this message right now, I’ve been killed, and you know where and how. I’m sorry about leaving, but I love fighting so much, even more than you. I’m sorry.’ She’s in White Mountain. Tell her it’s from Storm. Could you do that for me, kid?”

Copper nodded wordlessly, barely registering. Storm, the husky, had said ‘if you survive tonight’. IF YOU SURVIVE. What was happening? Where were they going? How could Johnson do this?! But, maybe he didn’t know the danger. These thoughts accompanied Copper as the strange-looking group raced on through the night.

After about half an hour Copper could see a building outlined in the dark and illuminated by yellow lights in the windows…‘Wolf eyes again,’ Copper thought, and immediately thought of Kaila and Balto, and ducked his head low, wishing he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything ever again. The disappearance of Kaila, the leave-taking of Balto to go after Kaila, the fight with Hawk, his promises to Jenna, Johnson’s breakdown about their financial problems, Copper’s hatred of racing and the fear his father would find out, Torpedo’s don’t know-don’t care attitude…it was all becoming almost too much to bear.

“Whoa!” the driver screamed, and the whip whizzed by over Copper’s head. The team stopped beside the squat building, and Copper found it strange that it was sitting in the middle of nowhere with no other buildings or towns in sight. Something suspicious was going on here.

The men began to climb down from the sleigh, and before they came any closer Copper hissed to Storm, “Hey! Storm! Hey!”

The dark gray husky looked back again with a somber expression. “What do ya want, kid?”

“What’s happening?” Copper asked simply, hoping he didn’t sound like an ignorant pup. Storm’s sad brown eyes widened, and Copper could have slapped himself.

“You don’t know? Kid, they’re gonna take us in there and we’re going to get almost slaughtered…by other dogs. Haven’t you ever heard of the Borealis Fights? The Northern Fights?”

Copper shook his head dumbly. The older husky sighed. “Oh yeah, I keep forgetting. It’s illegal.”

Copper’s mouth dropped open like a trapdoor. “Illegal?” he squeaked, then cleared his throat, but before he could talk to Storm anymore the driver yanked off the harness and picked the older dog up and threw him to the ground.

“Get up, you old granny! You’re going to win me some money tonight, or I’ll see to it personally that you’re ‘taught a lesson’. Ha!” The driver spat on the snow and kicked it towards Storm. Copper watched as Storm struggled to get up, and as soon as the driver unhitched him from the harness he ran over and helped Storm up.

“Thanks, kid,” Storm said, groaning as he straightened, “You’re alright. I sure hope you make it through the fights tonight.”

Copper shivered. “So do I.” He looked up at the lighted building, and from it came shouts and yelling and boos and roars of approval. “So it’s dog fights?”

“The best fighting ring in Alaska,” Storm said as he and Copper were pushed toward the entrance. “The Borealis Fights, or you can call it just the Northern Fights. I was a pretty good fighter in my time, but now I’m too old. Still, he keeps pushing me.” He nodded to the driver, who was breaking the other dogs out of the harness. “It’s not entirely his fault, though. I guess I keep pushing myself, too. I want to keep fighting.”

Copper pondered this for a second. Storm was getting to sound more and more like Balto, except the object of worship with Balto was racing, not fighting. Copper felt an unexpected stab of relief at the thought. Then he realized he had left Storm in silence for a moment too long. “Why?” he