he was approaching whatever made that noise quickly. And there, inside the small hut on the top of the boat, he saw movement. He moved swiftly behind something, hiding. What was this strange thing? Something left of this creature was alive?

Balto carefully took a sniff in the air. It smelled good, indeed, and it was alive. Then suddenly, the thing made a strange noise. Balto jumped a bit, but made no sound. Ultimately, he figured he couldn’t go on like this forever, so he then decided to walk over to the thing, and nudge it with his muzzle, and see what reaction it would trigger.

And so he did. He snuck over to the thing, and nudged it softly. It moved a bit, and something brushed his nose. It tickled, and he sneezed. “Atchoo!”

The thing suddenly started screaming wildly, and flew up in the air, only to hit the roof and fall down on the floor again. Balto backed away. This thing was wild and dangerous!

The creature made some screeching hoarse noises, but didn’t fly away for some reason. Strange.

“Oh, ay! Oh, the poweh of th’ holy burds, Ai am going to be eaten, bai a wulf!” it exclaimed. Balto shook his head, and backed away further. It was speaking!

“No, I’m not going to eat you!” Balto yelped, shaking his head. But the bird wouldn’t listen.

“Ai am not goin’ down, without ah fight!” he yelled, and threw himself over Balto, who could easily avoid the angry wings and the pecking beak, but he was too frightened now, and whined loudly, yelping whenever he was hit!

“Hey, hey! Stop that! Ouch! Stop!” he yelled, and all of a sudden, the blows disappeared. The bird stood at a safe distance now, eyeing him.

“Wat haf Ai done? ‘Tis just a pup!” the bird exclaimed, rubbing his forehead.

“Mai, mai, what ah mess...”

Balto was still lying on the floor, whimpering. Why did the bird fly at him in that way?! He couldn’t understand.

But this was too much for him, and tears flowed out of his eyes as he began wailing.

“Noh, noh! Don’ crai, mai friend! Ai apologise!” the bird said, hurrying over to the crying pup.

He laid his wings on the wolfdog’s back and stroked it gently, but there was no stopping him.

“I’m not welcome anywhere! Nobody wants me!” the pup cried out. With all that had been happening in his life; his mother’s disappearing, his father also disappearing, his siblings, and the adult dog taking away his first friend, he simply couldn’t stand it anymore. He wailed all of his feelings out of him, and the bird didn’t know, so he couldn’t help either.

Balto cried for hours, and the bird had seen no choice, but to take him inside and put a blanket around him.

When he finally calmed down, the bird had gotten a small bowl of water for him, and placed it down in front of the pup.

“H’ere, pup. Drink t’is.” He said, sitting down beside Balto. Balto took a deep, shaking breath, but the thirst was unbearable, and he began drinking.

“You t’ink you could tell me your name, pup? Ai am Boris... but mai friends are calling me; Boris.”

The goose eyed Balto carefully; he was still pretty afraid of this canine, but he didn’t care much about that now. The pup had pretty much shown that he was harmless.

Balto licked up some more water, before lying down again, looking away.

“Even if I told you my name, you will just leave me... like everyone else.” He whispered. Boris shook his head.

What has happened to t’is pup?he thought.

“Noh, mai friend. Ai won’t leave you.”

Boris almost felt himself regret his choice of words, but obviously, this pup needed someone to take care of him.

“My name is Balto...” he heard the pup whisper.

Balto. What a nice name!

“Ach, yes. Balto ‘tis then!” Boris smiled.

*

“Balto!!!”

Oh, sweet - ... what now?

“Balto! Get out of your dreams for ah minute an’ listen to me!”

Balto shook his head, a bit disoriented. Boris could be such a pain.

He stood up and stretched himself. He had grown, and almost looked like an adult dog. He was big of stature, and his fur had gotten a darker shade of grey. By all appearances, he looked like a wolf.

Boris, please stop shouting...

“Ai t’ink you should go out an’ get yourself ah spine!”

Balto laid his head on the floor of the boat, and put his paws over it.

“Oh, please, Boris... I just want to stay here today... Those other dogs, well... they are very annoying.” He moaned.

“Noh! You cannot allow these dogs to control your life! You can not simply jus’ stae in the boat, for the rest of your life?”

Boris crossed his wings, and Balto looked away.

“I know, I know. I feel you’re going to say THAT old phrase again. ‘The only way to get them to stop harassing you is to confront them.’” Balto groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Can’t we just, like, go somewhere else than into town?”

Boris slapped his forehead and sighed.

“You really are stubborn...”

The grey wolf-dog grinned. He had won, again. Now, they were travelling to Bear Rock, his old home. He was excited; maybe his mother would be there. He wondered if she would remember him.

“Ai, Balto... Listen to me. You cannot let those dogs control you. You are stronger, you know that, noh?”

Boris poked Balto. “You, unlike them, are part wolf.”

Balto shook his head, and sighed. “I know, Boris, I know... But what do you suggest I do? Bite them?”

“Yes, that might work, I t’ink.” He replied, obviously being sarcastic.

Balto rolled his eyes. Boris could be such a pain sometimes. But he was his only family, and like a father to him.

The surrounding forest was almost glowing. The snow had almost completely melted, and the trees were getting their green colour back. Things were becoming more beautiful by the day. Right now, they were in an open spot of the forest, resting. Balto hadn’t had a long walk like this for months, so his endurance was weakened a bit. After all, he had been nursed and taken care of for almost 6 months. He was over one year old now. The grass waved with the wind, and some small “bulbs” of glowing light slowly fell down to the ground and disappeared. Balto could remember this from his childhood; this phenomenon only happened nearby Bear Rock, but the cause of it was unknown. A common wolf legend tells that this is the place Alaskan wolves go to, when they are going to lay down for the final rest, and these bulbs are their spirits.

Knowing about this legend, Balto felt honoured to be watched by these spirits whenever he came here, and this was no exception.

Balto sighed... again.

*

“Steele!”

A black and white Malamute peered out from a box. He was a bit taller than Balto, and a bit more muscular.

“Steele! Get out of there, you wretched pup!”

The Alaskan malamute dropped his head a bit, ears lying flat, and walked reluctantly out of the box. A box, which happened to contain his owner’s, now gone, dinner.

The man was named Jack Connor, and he wore a brown coat, made of leather and embroidered with fur, for warmth. He had a round face, medium-long brown hair, and a bushy beard. Long legs and Eskimo-pants only added to his already strong presence.

Steele lied down on the floor beside Jack, ears still flat, whimpering a little. He knew he’d done something wrong, but what he had done was still unclear to him.

Jack bent down and grabbed Steele by the scruff, dragging him to the box, pointing to it and shouting, before giving the Malamute a clout on his muzzle. Steele whimpered even more now, but he realized what he’d done.

“What am I going to do with you? You’re never going to change, are you, Steele? Might as well just give you to the pound...” Jack sighed as he spoke, leaving the room and locking Steele into his pen.

Oh, how he hated that pen. The pen... Gee, take him to the pen! That’ll make him better! Oh, come on, Jack, just put him in his pen!

Curse them all...

The malamute trotted restlessly around in the small pen, every step in it increasing his anger even further. Ever since his father bit a man and was put to sleep, it seemed like the humans exhausted their anger onto him. Was it because he looked so similar to his father? He did not know, nor did he care, because, like every animal trapped in the way he was, he did never allow himself to think like that. He imagined himself that the humans were almighty, controlling life and death, and that being put in this (wretched) pen was done to protect and enlighten him. Yet, deep down, he knew why.

“Hey, Steele! Locked you up in the pen, have they?”

Steele turned around, only to face one of his friends looking at him, seeming a bit concerned.

The Alaskan Husky was yellow-ish in colour, with a very light brown colour on his chest, a somewhat dark muzzle, peculiar markings around his eyes and a middle-long tail, which was bushy.

"Geez, Steele! What’d you do this time?” Kaltag asked the malamute.

“Who, me? You know; sneaking to myself some food...” Steele asked, trying to make it sound that he did it, very well knowing that he wasn’t allowed to. He almost sounded arrogant.

“You just can’t seem to stay out of trouble, eh?” Kaltag replied. His voice was a bit light and raspy, but then again... he was relatively young.

Steele put up his best fake grin. “You know me. Steele, the trouble dog.”

Kaltag frowned. This wasn’t the Steele he remembered from their childhood. He’d grown into something fierce; not the playful puppy he used to be. And this change worried poor Kaltag.

“Alright, Steele. Have fun, then...”

Kaltag left him, and Steele looked after him. He felt lonely, but was too proud to call the yellow husky back. The malamute whined slightly, but walked in to his doghouse and fell asleep there. The sun shined brightly, and the warm breeze lulled him into his dreams.

Steele?

Yes?

His eyes opened, and he found himself on a platform, stranded in the middle of the