Chapter 1: Steele of Nome

There he was on a chilled concrete floor. The light was dim and the air was damp and dusty. He didn't know if he was in the pound or in a cave. The only reminders that he was in the pound was the stench the other dogs gave off and the sound of mocking laughter when his name was mentioned. He spent most of his days resting and pacing, resting and pacing. He never said much of anything anymore. He remembers he was a big talker and other dogs believed in him. He remembers whenever he lifted his paw, dogs would flinch before he ever struck. He remembers whenever he growled, dogs would back away. Then came in that wolfdog. An outcast, a social loser, a nobody, stood up to him and took his crown and instead he became the outcast, the social loser, and the nobody. After that, he had no friends, no comrades, no team or even a master. Yes, his master never forgave him. His master saw that he was a failure and an embarrassment. That's how he wound up here in this pound. For two and a half years he stayed here, eating dry tasteless food, drinking rusty water, and having only cockroaches to talk to. Not even the rats would talk to him, for they heard what happened. To him, this was a hell; to be alone.

But today was a special day. His two and a half years were up and they were going to finally take him home. But this isn't the home you and I think of. To him, home was where he came from; the void. Just as he left the void from being born, he will now return. He had no idea what death would be like, but he was ready. He waited anxiously for those approaching boot steps and the sound of jingling keys.

Yes! He could hear them now! The steps of those thick rubber soles sounded like a bass drum, booming down the hallway. His cage faced directly down the hallway. He could see that shadowy figure slowly approach. The keys sounded like the bells on a Christmas tree. Everything sounded so nice to him, you could almost see a smile, for his messiah was coming. The cage opened and let out a squeal that echoed through the dark damp hallway. The figure took a breath and sighed,

“Come on Steele. We have to go.” Steele got up steady without hesitation and rose proudly on his feet. The figure put a muzzle around Steel's snout and tightened it until it felt like it was a part of his own skull. Steele walked beside the man, slowly down the hall. Other dogs watched as they saw the once glorious Steele of Nome, being reduced to a statistic to a random pound in Fairbanks. Some jeered him, or laughed at him. But, Steele didn't care, for he was going home.

The Door-of-No-Return was on the opposite end of the hallway. Dogs go into this door and never came back. For two and half years, Steele looked at that door. As the weeks went by, he began to long for that door. If only he could run into it and run away.

There he was. His nose was touching the Door-of-No-Return and it felt warmer for some reason but not in a physical sense. It was a warmth of optimism and promise. He heard those heavenly sounding keys start to unlock. Just before the man opened the Door-of-No-Return, a bellowing voiced boomed through the hallway,

“I want that dog, Mr. Cooper! Bring him too me.” Mr. Cooper turned around and saw a middle-aged fellow in a suit, smoking a long cigar. He he puffed a few rings and continued,

“I've heard of this dog, Steele. He was a big name.” Mr. Cooper shook his head and responded,

“You don't want him. He's an embarrassment and bad luck.” Mr. Cooper looked down at Steele. Steele didn't even to bother to look up at him. The suited man shrugged his shoulders,

“He messed up a delivery in bad weather. So what? I'm not interested in freighting. I'm interested in racing! This dog right here is the dog to have. You can't argue with a Golden Collar and three consecutive winning seasons, sir. Just before the “incident”, it looked like he was going to another. I want him.” Mr. Cooper walked away taking Steele away from his precious door. He whined in frustration and sorrow. He soon was with Mr. Cooper at a counter with the cigar chomping man across from him. The man signed the papers and gave him to Mr. Cooper.

“Okay, he's yours. By the way sir... mind I ask what you do?” The man blew smoke in Mr. Cooper's face. He coughed and his eyes watered. The man grinned with his tobacco stained teeth,

“Fredrick Harris. President of the American Competitive Dog Sledding Team.” Right then, he strode away with Steele by his side. Steele walked towards the alien sunlight that he had forgotten. He squinted at the intense light. Soon he found himself outdoors with snow underneath his feat and the cold dry air running through his nose. Each breath, he felt his spirit returning to him. He rolled his powerful shoulders, cricked his neck, and ambled forward with a new sense of purpose. He was Steele of Nome.

Chapter 2: Conscription

Balto recently found a home by the airfield. He now rarely goes to the boat by the outskirts. He had no master but if he had a master, it would be Duke the bush pilot. Duke doesn't watch Balto's every move and every meal like most domesticated dogs. Balto was still wild but was comfortable in Duke's company. Whenever Duke felt like a mailrun, Balto would come along and be gone for days. He really appreciates flying. Nobody knows for sure anymore if Balto is a sled dog or a canine aviator.

“Then when you pull on the stick enough you make a half-loop then roll upright. After that, you're heading the opposite direction! That's a split-s, it one of my fav-” Balto was cut short.

“Oh spare us” yawned Kirby, “You've been going on about flying for an hour.” Kirby curled up and went to sleep. Balto, was perplexed on the boredom of the group. Everyone in the boiler room was asleep or half asleep. Only Kodi was awake, or at least pretended to be awake because Balto taught him sternly about listening. Jenna woke up and went to Balto,

“I'm sorry, Balto, but we can't identify with you and flying. I know you love it but *yawn* we're all sled dogs. We know sleds.” Balto grunted,

“What about you? You never were a work dog yourself. How do you identify?” Jenna rolled her eyes and let it out with a slight laugh,

“I know a whole lot more sled dogs than flying dogs.” said Jenna. Balto sighed, and walked off. Jenna called for him.

“Balto where are you going?”

“Back to my old place. I feel I should stop being a flying dog. I know I'm a sled dog.” Jenna protested,

“You don't have to give up things you like. All I said was-”

“Look, you're right. I love flying but these guys can't share my experience, so I'm all alone. It's best if I don't fly at all.” Balto started to walk away, but Jenna yelped,

“Duke's leaving soon. Where are you going?” Balto turned around and plainly said,

“Not the first time I missed a flight. Duke goes when he goes. He's not my master and he knows that. I'm just going to hang out by my boat.” Balto continued on to the outskirts of town where his boat was. Off in the distance you could hear Boris singing his Russian folk songs. He couldn't sing, but the spirit of the singing made up for it. To be honest, they were kind of catchy.

Boris saw Balto walk onto the boat in a melancholy fashion. Boris kept on singing up in Balto's face to bring a smile. Balto gave a quick broad smile and went to sleep. Boris piped up with that Russian accent of his,

“What's the matter with you? Butcher didn't throw out any lamb scraps today?” Balto opened his eyes and said as a matter of fact,

“Boris, I'm quitting flying.” Boris was sent backwards in shock. He pulled himself together and questioned Balto,

“But Balto, you're obsessed with flying. You love everything about it. Why?” Balto looked at Boris and shrugged,

“Well, I do like flying but it separates me from my friends. I talk about it but they don't care. The more and more I fly the more separated I am. I'm close to Duke, but I can't exactly talk to him, being a human.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Balto thought about this. Closed his eyes and said,

“I think I'll start being an old dog who watches the world go by. I saved a town, I raised some pups, and I saved Duke. I did my verse in life.” Boris crossed his wings and gave Balto a lazy eye of disappointment.

“You did a part but you're not done yet. You're still a young dog with some life.”

“Boris, I'm approaching middle age. I'm done with adventure and excitement. I need to slow down.”

Boris stamped away in frustration. Just before he turned the corner to go into the bridge of the ship, he said into the wind, softly enough so that Balto's ears could hear.

“In old country, I've seen dogs work until their last breath. Maybe you should live till yourlast breath.”

These words stayed with Balto. He thought about them hard. Was he calling quits too early? Maybe he should go on one more adventure. His clock is ticking and he should cram in all he's got. He closed his eyes and went to sleep, listening to the melodic arctic wind.

Suddenly his ears twitched. He heard the slamming of a door of a truck and smelled the scent of humans, at least five. He heard them muttering in excitement. Balto wondered what this commotion was all about. He peaked of the edge of the boat and saw the truck with the tracks leading to Nome. As Balto was looking he heard the floor boards creak behind him. He quickly jumped his body 180 degrees and saw 4 men with snares in hand. Balto put himself into a defensive and growled. He did all he could to growl viciously and tried to force himself not to lunge at them, for doing so might be the last thing he'll do. Balto stood his ground as those towering humans held those snares.

One human on the side got the courage to snare the wolfdog. Balto desperately struggled but then the other snares came upon his

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