Prologue:

 

Up in a high peak of northern Alaska, where the cruel wind and snow combined their forces and buffeted the scraggly pine trees, there was a cave, and in that cave there lived a wolf pack, sheltering themselves from the harsh winter.  And among that wolf pack, there was a leader.

 

Or at least, there had been.

In a lonely little cave overlooking the snow-capped mountains, the thought in the gray she-wolf's mind seemed to echo loudly in the valleys far below.  Do we really have to go through with this?  It's just so unfair to him!  Between her shaggy paws was a slumbering pup, the object of her questioning.  He was small, with a chestnut-colored coat and pale, startling markings around his amber eyes.  When they were open, they were as bright and sparkling as the Northern Lights, full of intelligence and as sweet as his mother's, gentle Anana's, had once been...before she had departed from this life.  The she-wolf shuddered.  She could still remember the shock that had come from the news of her friend's death, and even worse, realizing that her son - her only son - had nowhere to go.  A torrent of frustration and helplessness swept through her body.  The pup between her paws turned over, nestling his head against her shoulder.

  

A single tear dripped onto his back and slid down his belly.  It's all just so unfair, the gray wolf thought.

 

 

The Forgotten One (The Story of Juneau) 

  

Juneau was having a wonderful dream.  It was a gorgeous day in his dream, and there was something around his neck and chest, like ropes...oh, it was a harness, of course.  And he was running, and there were dogs cheering, cheering and chanting and yelling his name, louder and louder and louder...

"JUNEAU!"  The voice swelled and grew rougher until it banged against the young dog's sensitive eardrums.  Waking from his dream suddenly and uncomfortably, he kicked out, his short legs becoming entangled in the worn burgundy blanket he slept on.  "Awww...Boris..."  One piercingly amber eye glared from the fabric's confines.

"Juneau, let's move!  The race!  The race!  Get up!"  The Russian snow goose flapped awkwardly in an attempt to budge the six-month-old mixed-breed pup.  He pushed and shoved as hard as he could and with as much strength as his wings could muster.  Suddenly Juneau rose of his own accord, knocking Boris flat on the creaking boards beneath them.  Grumbling loudly, Boris scrambled to his feet and followed the unrepentant young puppy out of the deserted schooner in which they lived.

 

Chuckling to himself, Juneau lifted his large, pointed nose to test the wind.  His nostrils caught the piney smell of the woods beyond the cold beach, and beyond that the faintly familiar scent of humans.  Sighing loudly, he turned back as Boris waddled hurriedly towards him.  Upon catching up, Boris threw out a wing and caught his charge around the neck, pushing him forward.  "Hurry, boitshick!  Uncle Balto and Kodi are waiting!  We are not wanting to miss the race!"  With an inward smirk, Juneau followed.

The hustle and bustle nearly overwhelmed Juneau as he scampered along behind the goose.  Although he would never admit it, he was afraid of all the noise and the lights and the people; it was one of those strange instincts he couldn't understand about himself.  Grabbing Boris by his feathery wing tips, the pup lunged out of the way of a large posse of humans.  Laughing and talking loudly, the humans never noticed the strangely quivering boards stacked against the wall nearest them.  With a shaky, puppy-like sigh, Juneau emerged from behind them with his feathered "uncle" and began walking again...but suddenly had a better idea.  Abruptly changing course, he threw himself onto the nearest window sill, and then up the gutter.  Clawing for a better hold, he scrambled up the bricks and then proceeded to grapple with the edge of the precarious tin roof.  Hearing squawks and loud honks behind him but paying no mind, he pulled his red-brown body over the side.  Pausing to catch his breath, he couldn't help but grin.  That was fun!

 

But one more glance behind him told Juneau that his fun was about to end.

Caliber, the young, handsome dog affectionately referred to by the young female pups as 'Cal', was pacing swiftly over the hard-packed snow.  His bright green eyes lit up when he saw Juneau, the new-found object of his subtle yet humiliating jibes, and the light gray husky began to run.

Panic wracked poor Juneau's body, and his under-developed, foolish instincts took over.  Juneau jumped straight over the edge of the roof and braced himself for impact.  When he heard the cocky laugh of the older, stronger Swiss-bred pup just behind him, he instinctively threw up a paw, and the result was horrifying.  Juneau thrust full weight on his right paw, and pain coursed through the corresponding leg.  Dropping onto one shoulder, he was conscious of a large, hulking figure to his left.  Staggering and panting, he heaved himself up and to the right.  Caliber, close at hand, chuckled.

"How are you today, mutt?"  The tone of his voice was, as always, smooth and melodramatic, and Juneau knew the reason behind it.  But he wasn't some silly girl in love with Cal's looks and potent speed.  He was a friend of Balto, the hero of Nome, and he was even allowed to call him 'Uncle'!  "Just fine," said the smaller puppy in his pride.  But his leg was throbbing uncontrollably and painfully.  He had to get out of this quickly, but his stubbornness wouldn't let him.  And yet there was no way out.  He'll probably finish me off, once and for all, he realized.  For the second time that day, young Juneau braced himself for a great deal of pain.

 

 "What in the world?"  A high, imperatively female tone cut through the tense scene.  Cal looked slightly amused at the sight, but Juneau groaned softly to himself.  Whoever she is, if she gets hurt, it'll be my fault.  This, of course, wasn't true, but to Juneau it seemed so, and now he had to deal with Cal and a silly girl, too.  He groaned again.

  "Back off, horseshoe!"  The young female was referring to Cal's distinct toe-markings that looked uncannily like horse hooves.  Juneau almost giggled.  Cal growled and lunged at him, but the girl shrieked, "Watch it, he didn't say anything, I did."  Her pale blue eyes gleamed dangerously.

    

Cal rolled his eyes.  "Why can't you mind your own business for once?"

 

 The fiery girl glared right back.  "Hurting other dogs isn't supposed to be your business in the first place.  Is it?"

For a moment the two glared at each other, almost nose-to-nose.  Juneau wondered briefly who would win-the tough, pure-bred Cal or this sassy girl who looked more Border collie than anything.  To Juneau's amazement, it was Caliber who backed off first.  Cal was about to say something sharp to the female pup, but suddenly a tall, crooked shadow cast its mark over all three of them.  The girl gulped; Cal looked grim and resolutely stood his ground, but Juneau cried, "Uncle Balto!"

   "Hey, sport.  Sorry I wasn't at the boat this morning."  The hero of Nome scrubbed Juneau on the head.  Suddenly he stopped as Juneau whined in pain.  He narrowed his eyes as he leaned down to get a good look at the puppy's foot.  "What's wrong with your leg?  How did it happen?"  Immediately those yellow eyes followed Cal, who looked ready to make a break for it.  The little female, however, relaxed, seeing that this older dog was friendly.  After all, she hadn't forced that poor pup to jump off a roof!  

Balto gave Cal a stern look and said quietly, "Come here for a minute, please."  He turned away, as if expecting Cal to follow him, which, in fact, he did.  For several moments Juneau and the girl stood staring at the ground.  Then she looked up and began to stare at him, which unnerved him even more.  Aftera while of this he forced himself to look up.  "Thanks for your help," he said simply.  He wasn't great with words and hoped that she would understand the meaning in his voice.  Juneau expected her to say something like, 'For what?  Oh, that?  It was nothing.'  Instead, the collie-girl shrugged and said, "Sure."

Soon, Balto returned, taking with him a humbled Caliber.  With one long, last baleful look, the older pup scurried away.  Juneau could tell from Cal's unusually bouncy gait that he was trying to pretend nothing bad (or embarassing) had just happened.  Beside him, the girl muttered just what Juneau had been thinking, although he knew he couldn't really do it.  "I'll take that bounce out of your step for you.  Gladly," she growled.  Surprised, Juneau turned to her.  She just shrugged again.  "He's my cousin.  We fight a lot."  Juneau's eyes were wide-he'd never thought of fighting with relatives, mainly because he hadn't any that he knew of.  Without really thinking about what he was saying,

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