lifted his head to test the wind for the umpteenth time.

"Awww, come on.  Balto'll be here."  But as Brite saw the look of concern on her playmate's countenance, she quickly offered to walk with him to the boat.  Juneau smiled gratefully and accepted.

"Uh-oh.  Trouble," warned Brite.  None other than Caliber himself was strutting towards them across the sandy hills.

"What do we do?" asked Juneau in a hushed whisper.

"Simple," she replied.  "Distract him as soon as he gets near that clump of dry grass.  What are you waiting for?" she prompted at the look of panic on Juneau's face.  "Go on.  You'll be okay."  He stumbled forward in response.

"Hey, look who's here."  Cal advanced in on Juneau, who had decided that the way to go was to act as helpless as possible.  The tight white wrapping around his right foreleg helped considerably, and Cal fell for his pleas for mercy.  Cal chuckled, not a nice thing to hear.  "Come on and fight, whimp!"  He launched himself at Juneau, who cowered in mock fear.  Then he sprang out of the way, and Cal crashed straight into the grass clump.

"OOOOWWWWW!!"  Cal yelped.  There were prickly, sticky balls all over him, and, much to the other pups' delight, there was a particularly painful-looking one right on his sensitive black nose.  "Let's run for it!" whispered Juneau furiously.

"What!?" cried Brite.  But her comrade was already gone, pelting straight for Balto's boat.  "Darn it.  And I was looking forward to a good fight," she muttered, loping along just behind him. 

When they'd gotten far out of the reach of Cal's wrath, they found themselves only a few yards from the boat.  But still they could still hear Caliber's yowling.  It sounded like a frightened cat.  Juneau sniggered.  Brite giggled.  Before they knew it, they were unable to stop laughing.  Suddenly, however, the fun was broken up by a few snatches of conversation from inside the schooner's inner chambers.  Instantly hushed by the tone of the voices, the pups wriggled into the shadow of the doorway and listened as best they could.

"He can't be...isn't wolf..."

"Part wolf...part husky..."

"But...never knew...how?"

"Clan needs...go back..."

Juneau dashed to the boat, up the ramp, and into the inner room, their sleeping quarters.  He gasped aloud.  For there, right in front of him, was Balto...facing a lone wolf.  "How...what...?"  The puppy shouted.

"Juneau, WAIT!"  Brite came sprinting into the corridor also, with an equally shocked reaction.  She, however, remained silent.  It wasn't her adopted uncle facing a rather savage-looking wolf.

"Juneau..."  Balto stepped protectively to the pup's side.  "See?"  He practically shouted at the lupine.  "See?  He's only half-grown!"  Juneau had never heard his uncle use that tone of voice before.

"Nonetheless..." the wolf trailed off.  With a searching look in its slanted eyes, it inspected Juneau.  The wiry coppery hairs stood up on Juneau's ruff, and his eyes gleamed dangerously.

"Now do you see?"  The wolf chuckled, not unkindly.  "He's part wolf."

All of a sudden, the defiant light in Balto's eyes died.  He stepped back and gazed at the young dog a moment.  Juneau looked at him helplessly, trying to take as non-wolfish a stance as he could.  Please...please...I don't want to be...  "You're right," Balto murmured in realization.  "He is."

"What do I do?"  Gripping panic seized Juneau's insides.  "What now?"  For, as he thought about it, there was no way he couldn't be part wolf.  He'd always been impulsively wolfish, like just yesterday, when he'd jumped off the roof...and his fear of human beings...  He gazed balefully at his wrappings, gleaming orange in the dying sun's glow.

"Well, Juneau," Balto said slowly, "it'd be best for you to stay here with me."

"But...we need him-" started up the wolf, his golden eyes glowing fitfully.

"Y' see...you've gotta understand..."  Balto continued as he hadn't been interrupted.  "Juneau, you father is m

y brother."

In the dead silence that followed, you could have heard a pin drop.  "But...but...who was my father?"  Juneau's eyes were half-wild with confusion and desperation.

"His name was Bering."   For the second time that day, there was a reminiscing gleam in Balto's eye.  "A good, honest canine.  We had our disagreements, but - oh, well.  He was the leader of a wolf clan, the last I saw of him.  But if what this wolf-" he jerked his head towards the canine, "-says is true, then Bering is dead now."

As the wolf nodded, Juneau murmured, "I thought as much."

Suddenly Brite jumped back into the picture.  "What did you mean, you needed Juneau?"  She inclined her head at the wolf.  He spoke, "Our new alpha is corrupt.  Several don't want another half-breed leader, but the older, wiser wolves say to seek out Bering's son in the closest town, where they dropped him off originally.  One gray she-wolf in particular wants you back, Juneau.  Guess I picked the right boat to drop in on, huh?"  He chuckled in the rough way that was his own.

"Say, what's your name, anyway?" queried Juneau suddenly. 

"Pawnee," the wolf promptly responded.  "Now are you coming or not?"  He looked from Juneau to his uncle Balto.  (Ironic as it seemed, Balto really was the pup's uncle, after all.)  "Well...?"  Pawnee tapped his foot.

"Let me sleep on it," said Juneau after a considerable pause.  His mind was a mass of swirling thoughts.  My dreams of a sled dog, a normal dog...all that's gone up in smoke now.  He knew well enough from Balto's many stories that being a wolfdog was no picnic.  Overwhelmed, the young half-breed abruptly sat down, stretching his long forelegs like tent poles to support him.  After a moment of staring down, he raised his head and gazed at them all with a surprisingly calm expression.

"Do you mind if I spent the night, then? Assuming there are no humans coming here, of course?"  Pawnee glanced inquiringly at Balto, who was obviously the main "owner" of the schooner.

"Sure, as long as you don't eat Boris while we're sleeping," Balto laughed.  Pawnee flushed.  Brite stood awkwardly in the doorway, and Juneau came quickly to her side.  "I'll walk you home," he offered.

"Okay," she accepted, remembering just minutes before when she'd walked him to the boat.  With Cal at home napping, the trip was uneventful.  When they reached Brite's doorway, they stopped in front of it.  "Goodnight," said Juneau.  "Goodnight," said Brite.  They both turned slowly away.

Suddenly Juneau whirled about to face her again.  "Do you still think that my breeding's cool?!" he shouted, his voice cracking.  With a shock, Brite realized there were tears filming his amber eyes.  She stepped back, appalled.  "Of course I do," she said, almost haughtily, as if the very idea that it might not be cool was ridiculous.

"Okay," Juneau gasped.  "Good."  Then he turned homeward.  She didn't think he was weird, he could tell.  That was enough, for now.  As Juneau approached the boat, Balto appeared at the entrance and slung his large paw across the pup's shoulders.  "I know it's a lot to take in," he muttered.  "And I'm sorry.  I really didn't know."

"But what should I do?"  Juneau nearly wailed in despair.  Nearby, Pawnee snored loudly and turned over.

"Shhh...It's up to you."  Balto met the question in his nephew's eyes head-on.  They clambered into tattered blankets for the night, and as Juneau rolled over he thought about how much differently this day had started.  In less than one day, he had unlocked a key to his past.  Not the key, but one key.  One key, and there were definitely more to come.

 

Balto, Jenna, Boris, Kodi (c) Universal Studios and Amblin Entertainment

Juneau, Brite, Cal, Pawnee, Bering (c) Iditarod    

 

   

 

 

 

          

       

 

  

   

      

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