Author’s Note: This last part is almost a retelling of the major situation in “Wings of Change,” of course with a different outcome than in the film. I changed much of the original dialogue, but I tried to keep the original feel of the script while making it my own piece. This epilogue is the longest part of the story and I appreciate you readers for enjoying the first two parts; I hope you enjoy my version of Balto III, and hopefully I, too, can make his legacy proud with the conclusion of this tale.

Also, you might be surprised with one scene, based on the original film! Look out for it, and enjoy! Also, I split this final part into three parts for sake of a break. The finale is coming soon, so look for it!

- Juuchan17

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Part ONE 

Nothing much had changed in the small town since that day. The mountains remained rigid and steadfast, like a border of the two worlds that were united within their city limits – the wild forest and the tame house pet life. The shoreline with its reflecting sea was a border also, and a safe haven for traveling geese that wanted to escape their hometowns for a while . . . or longer, if they wished it so. Sled teams continued to come and go from the Alaskan town, whether for delivering mail and packages to nearby towns or just for the thrills of the fast, competitive sport of dog-sledding. Life remained normal as the sleeping night began to cease, signaling the rise of the upcoming morning.

The birds were beginning their natural alarm call as the sky’s dark hue started to morph from dark navy to a shade of orange-yellow. A soft breeze tapped against the branches of the tall, slender pines that lined the nearby forest by the mountainous cliffs, creating a serenely pleasant mood for the arrival of the sun. Although many creatures were still asleep, one four-legged animal was up long before the avian chirps, continuing the same early-morning routine on the sandy beachside that he had done for the past three years. 

As the light of the upcoming sunrise began to dust everything with its pale orange hue, the creature stood on the shoreline, allowing the tide to lap against his large, white stocking paws. He let out a sigh, allowing the peeking sun to warm his white face with its golden orange rays. He shook his coat, a rusty burgundy now brushed with a tint of sunrise, trying to get the specks of sand that hitched a ride on him as he ran the edge of the shore. He breathed in, then blew in out slowly, as he began to rest before continuing his exercise.

The sun now covered the lower part of the sky, and the wake-up calls began to spread through the town of Nome; the huskies and malamutes of the local sledding teams slowly began to rise from their night slumber with yawning howls and barks.  

The burgundy and cream dog sat on the sand, looking out at the sleepy town that was the place of his birth only three years ago. He sighed again, turning his gaze to the left of where he sat, lowering his ears at the sight of the old, grounded boat of wood.

Oh, Dad . . . A tear fell down his eye as he gazed upon the carved cross that stuck out from the foot of the boat’s bow, surrounded by blossoming flowers. I still miss you, although I can hardly believe what has happened in the many months since I last saw you . . . You said that a part of you was always with me, right? 

He closed his eyes, remembering how he moved on from the sudden loss of his half-breed patriarch after meeting with his spirit for, gosh, it seemed for hours, but it was only a matter of minutes before the young son watched his role model vanish back into the land of the spirits. A soft wind caused his fur to shift as the memories of almost a year ago flooded back into his mind’s eye.

You wouldn’t believe it if you saw it yourself . . . what happened only a while ago . . . . 

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As the two year old pup descended down the rocky mountain in the dark of evening, he had made a new promise while the image of his father sinking into the starry sky remained fresh in his mind:  

Dad . . . Dad, I will make you proud of me . . . by following your example . . . by believing in my own strength . . . by showing everyone that I am your son . . . .

Throughout the coming weeks, all the local dogs noticed a change come over the youngest son of their fallen hero. Instead of being the forlorn pup that he was during the past year while mourning his father’s death, he was . . . strangely very happy. He started each sled run with a howl of joy and a smile to the rest of his sledding party, as if he remembered what he longed to do more than anything – lead a sled team. Every run on the mail team ended the exact same way – a quick howl and a glad smile – and once he was detached from the sled harness, he would run and play down the shores, almost like he was a young pup again.  

Some rumors began to spread around the chain of dog gossipers that the might have been possessed by the spirit of his late father; others thought that it must have been some sort of brainwashing that caused him to forget that his father ever died.

Even the young Jenna, his mother, had heard the rumors herself, however she didn’t believe them; her intuition made her have a secret feeling that perhaps her dead mate had knocked some sense into him. Everything that the understanding husky would tell him never seemed to work within that year after they both gazed upon the hybrid’s lifeless corpse. She knew that his role model, her mate, was the only one that could make things right. Unlike her youngest son, she had accepted her lover’s sudden death and moved on with her life, no longer weeping over him. She had grown friendly to another male, a wheat-brown husky, who she planned on making her new mate in due time, but she made sure that her new love would never be compared to what she had with her hero. 

For the past couple of years, the burgundy female had always hoped that her young son would at last show his true strength to the world, the strength that he had hidden ever since his idol left his side.

Show them, Kodi . . . Show them who you are . . . . 

In the late winter of 1928, the son got his chance.

After a sudden landing by a foreign plane yards from the town cathedral, the huskies on the mail team became worried after hearing about what the plane’s purpose was. The team (and several other curious dogs) had a meeting underneath the town hall as the upset mushers, confused townspeople, and the calm, blond-haired pilot met above them. 

“But what about our jobs?” A small gray husky on the team spoke up to the others. “If that plane delivers the mail, what can we do to live?”

“Nothing, I suppose, Dusty,” The large dark gray canine replied, giving her a sorrowful gaze. “Who will love us if we can’t run on a sled team anymore?” A tear fell down his cheek; the light gray female, Dusty, licked it away and nuzzled him softly. Suddenly, he felt a burst of confidence surge through him. “But I know one thing: we can’t let this thing take our jobs! We have to do something!” 

“There may not be anything we can do, Ralph,” Dusty lowered her ears. “Unfortunately, this all sounds like an impossible situation in which we may never recover ever again.”

The burgundy and white quarter-wolf listened to the conversation, thinking at the same time. This is terrible! We can’t lose our jobs! There’s nothing else that we can do here, except for running! There must be something I can do to stop this . . . 

He lifted his head up, looking through the vent where a lantern flickered; he could feel its soft golden glow shine upon his coat as he let out a sigh. What would you do in this situation, Dad?

“We can’t give up hope, you guys,” He spoke up with a sense of confidence. “Maybe it’s all a big misunderstanding or something! There’s got to be some way to show that we still have an important job to do!” 

All of the other huskies nodded, agreeing with the young red pup. A wheat-brown male looked at him as he continued to listen to the concerns of the other canines. However, watching the quarter-wolf talking with the rest of the team made him wonder for a while as he called his large blackish-gray sled-mate.

“Hmm, look at this here, Ralph,” The brown lead dog whispered to his companion, pointing a paw at the red husky. “I don’t know why, but it appears that young Kodi is gonna be as just like his father!” 

“I don’t know, Kirby,” Ralph sat down and began to scratch himself with his hind leg. “He’s still so young, and it’s only been two years since his passing. But,” The massive canine took another look at Kodi with a smile. “‘Like father, like Son,’ I suppose. He has changed since he first joined us last year.”

“Yeah, he was quite a difficult one to break when he started out,” the lead dog let out a giggle. “It’s like he didn’t even want to run! But now, he’s one of the fastest and most high-spirited dogs I have ever run with.” 

Dusty, who was listening to the two males’ conversation, stepped in and added to Kirby’s comment. “He has the spirit of his father inside him, always.” She nudged the brown dog’s shoulder with a chuckling grin as she strutted away towards the red quarter-wolf. “Be careful, Kirb – I think we may have a new lead dog in our midst.”

Kirby stood there, stunned by Dusty’s comment. Could that be possible? He thought. But he didn’t mind the idea of Kodi as his successor. Hmm, he has shown something that I’ve never seen in another dog before . . . Yeah, Dusty . . . I think you may be on to something. I just need to give him a chance to lead for once . .