Proud of Your Boy 

(started 6/11/06 – finished /07)

Summary: When Balto suddenly dies while returning home from the wilderness, his family - mainly his son, Kodi - grieves his death. Meanwhile, Kodi remembers the times he spent with his father, but also deals with the fact that the one he had always looked up to for strength and guidance won't be beside him – Can Kodi learn to move on, with the help of a divine intervention? 

Note: This is an alternate storyline that takes place in between the end of WQ (when Balto is about to return home after seeing his mother) and the events of WoC . . . but since Balto dies, things go a bit differently. And yes, this is supposed to be a (very late) father-son fic for Father's Day.

Note #2: While writing this fic, I tried something that I had never done before. I hope you can figure it out while you read the story!

Rating: Uh . . . PG-13 for drama, teen angst, major character death (duh?), and other stuff. Just be careful, okay? That's a good enough warning, yes? 

Disclaimer:Balto, Balto: Wolf Quest,Balto: Wings of Change, and all other official Balto characters are the property of Universal Studios. The fan-names of Yukon and Denali are the property of Juuchan17 (me).

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PART ONE

The weather was changing for the worse as the snow began to whip around the chilly wind. The air became quite frigid as the early winter's frost spread throughout the wilderness. To think it had only been a few days since the brownish-gray hybrid had bid his own daughter farewell as she had become succumbed into the world of the wolves, and the effect of the cold Alaskan wintertime that he had predicted was at last striking landfall. 

I knew it was coming soon, he thought to himself as he slowly continued to tread the dangerous mountain path onward to Nome. I just hope I can make it home before this storm gets worse . . . and be able to see my family again . . . I have missed them so much . . . . His head was filled with the images of those that he held close to his heart: his purebred husky mate, his remaining three sons and two daughters, his Russian fowl companion and his two polar bear comrades, and of course, the people that lived in the town that he had called his own ever since he was left there by his father as a young pup. He let out a sigh as his journey led him closer, closer to home. As he put one paw after another, he trekked on, panting harder and traveling slower and slower than usual while on the rocky summits.

Perhaps it was old age that finally kicked inside the grizzly half-wolf that caused him to not notice the slippery patch of ice on the rocky surface in front of him.  

Maybe it was his previous injuries from protecting his daughter from harm's way that caused him to suddenly slip from his rocky perch and into the not-quite frozen rapids below.

Or maybe . . . .  

Just maybe . . . .

It was his destined fate, at last catching up with him. 

It is time to come home, my son . . . .

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The sleepy town awoke to a thick covering of misty fog that hid the sunrise. However that didn't stop a red yearling pup from his usual routine: a lively morning run on the beachside. He then stood out there after about ten minutes, looking out at the Alaskan forestscape, awaiting the sound of the wild from within . . . . hoping that today was the day that his father would arrive from . . . wherever he was. All he had heard from his mother was that he had gone after his eldest sister, Aleu, who had angrily run away from home into the depths of the wilderness.

Typical, he had thought. She always got herself into mischief, even when we were little. Oh, Dad . . . . he let out a sigh as he closed his brown eyes. We were your main priority, the focus of your attention. You always made sure we were okay, even a little runt like me . . . . 

= - = - = - = - = - =

It was over a year ago when they first raced on the shoreline. The six young puppies had only been born about four or five weeks ago, but from the looks of things, they had all inherited their father's speed and strength and their mother's beauty and breed-line. But there was one pup that was not the most perfect in the bunch. He was running on the beach's golden, sandy path; however the red and white runt of his mother’s looks was the last of the six to reach the goal of his father's boat. He was panting hard, but still managed to smile out of the joy and happiness of crossing the finish line. However, his expression turned upside-down as he realized how far behind he was.  

I can't do it . . . I'll never be as fast as they are . . . .

The pup held back tears, knowing that he would be teased for being a sissy, a wuss, a weakling crybaby that cries over losing a race, but he couldn't take it anymore. A thin stream of tiny tears had just formed underneath his eyelids as a towering shadow engulfed him. He looked back, fearful that it was an unknown dog, but his fears dispersed at the sight of his father. He was surprised by the fact that he was smiling on him . . . . only encouraging him to keep trying. 

"Come on, son. I'll help you." The hybrid held out his paw to the runty pup, still with a grin on his face.

The runt returned the two gestures and followed behind the large half-breed as they rejoined the other pups; he was eager to receive his father's wisdom and advice on improving his natural ability to run, and he hoped and prayed that he would use those learned skills well.  

It was that day that he made his life-long goal.

One day, Dad . . . I'm going to be a lead dog on a sled . . . just like you were . . . . 

And that his father would be beside him, smiling as his young son followed in his large wolf paw-prints.

And then, I'll make you proud of me . . . and you'll be there to watch me, right? 

Won’t you?

= - = - = - = - = - = 

However, this would not be the case.

A dark shadow suddenly crept closer through the fog. It had the body of a dog . . . . Could it be . . . . Dad? The husky's soft ears pricked up as he let out a small call and then paused, listening for a return howl of confirmation . . . .  

But there was none. Instead, there wasn’t just one, but two dogs, slowly walking towards him, side by side. There was no howl, no sound at all. Only the sound of their soft padded paws hitting the snowy grass beneath them in a quiet unison, and soon started to gradually increase as they sound got closer to the fog's edge.

The couple of canines soon emerged from the fog, followed by parallel lines of other dogs, who the pup could tell they were all local dogs. They marched solemnly; one behind the other, as the red yearling looked back and forth between them all, hoping that one of them was that father figure that he had been awaiting. Most of them never returned his curious gaze, but a couple of them gave him a quick glance that had a powerful look of sorrow and then returned their attention forward. They continued to slowly move forward towards a barn and cabin-like house near the edge of town; when the husky child noticed this, he knew something was not right. 

Why would they march to Mom's house? First, this thick fog, then the lines of slow-moving dogs into town . . . . That was more of a funeral march than a welcome home . . . . . No . . . that can't be . . . .

The husky's legs gave way as he saw the ultimate climax of the march. Two huskies, Nikki and Kaltag, pulled a sled that carried a canine corpse. The gray-brown dog's wet body was covered in dried blood and dirt, but the sight was too gruesome and sudden for the young son to handle. He turned away, putting his paws over his face until they were washed in tears. 

DAD!

The two dogs made eye contact with the young pup as he sadly lifted his head from his mourning, while also they too were, unsuccessfully, holding back tears, and continued to complete their journey to Jenna's to offer their condolences. After the dogs had passed by, the tears wouldn't stop and it seemed like the spirit of his wild ancestors were beginning to merge with his emotions. 

"Aahhhhhhhh-wooooooooooooooooooooo . . . . "

The lamenting cry echoed through the foggy town that was now beginning to awaken from their midnight slumber. At the young mother's house, she had just received the terrible news and was in tears when her son's howl sounded in her lowered ears as she viewed the body of her beloved. She knew what emotions were going through her son right now . . . since she was feeling the same as well. 

"Aahhhhhhhh-wooooooooooooooooooooo . . . . "

From the old, wooden boat, three figures emerged from within the large abode, wondering what all of the noise was about. A large ball of fluff, followed by his smaller brother and a thin-necked Russian bird looked out at the sudden solemn gathering of canines, and when they saw the lifeless corpse in the sled, they had a sudden sense that their best friend was never returning home. The snow goose and two polar bears hugged each other in sadness as they sobbed together while also listening to the husky's howl of mourning. 

"Aahhhhhhhh-wooooooooooooooooooooo . . . . "

The red husky yearling ran straight to his mother's house and they spent the remainder of the morning grieving over the sudden loss of their hero. Other dogs visited them, including the four other children - Dingo, Saba, Yukon, and Denali - and shared their good memories of the wolf-dog through their condolences. Everyone, even the townspeople of Nome, shared Jenna's pain and loss. Rosy was there too, crying as she hugged her pet husky, knowing that a special part of themselves had died