up to him, placing a wing on the wolf-dog’s scruffy neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

The hybrid canine wanted to have a straight face once he arrived into the company of his allies, neighbors, and enemies, but all of the frustration and sadness that filled his heart emptied itself out from his eyes. 

“I couldn’t save her, Boris . . .” he dropped down onto the white-washed porch of the clinic, murmuring as he mourned. “I saw her die, she was right there in front of me . . . and yet in the end, I couldn’t do anything to save her . . .”

“There, there,” The goose embraced him calmly. “There probably wasn’t anything anyone could have done to make things better. Oh, I’m so sorry it had to happen to someone like Jenna.” This was the worst state that Boris had ever seen Balto before. Never had he ever cried so much in his life, but the hybrid felt a little bit better with his guardian by his side to comfort him in his time of life-shattering grief. 

Balto turned to his feathered friend with a small grin. “Thanks, Boris,” He allowed the gander to wipe a tear from his eye with a feathered finger. “I knew you’d be there for me when I really need someone.”

“Yes,” The gander, although he didn’t want to, tried to change the subject. “but what about Jenna’s pups?” Boris asked, hoping that there was happier news. “We all saw that little girl bottle-feeding one of them, but were there more? What happened to them?” Other dogs leaned forward to hear Balto’s response to this question, for they also wished for something good to come from this tragedy. 

“That’s my daughter . . .” Balto sniffed. The words were difficult to speak, for he wished it wasn’t true, but the truth had to be told to everyone. “Out of the six pups that Jenna birthed, she is the only one that survived.”

The crowd gasped in a mixture of shock, sadness, and surprise. Many of them went up to pay their condolences to the new father – for once, it was a time of grief and remembrance that every came together as equals, not worrying about one’s breeding or looks. Even the ones that considered Balto as an enemy were moved to tears at the announcement and the wolf-dog’s lamentation, for they adored Jenna’s kind, loving demeanor as much as he did. The comfort session lasted for about half of the day; by nightfall, the last canine had begun to return to his cozy home, leaving Balto and Boris alone again as the lights in the building dimmed for the night. 

Balto stood up, as did Boris, but the wolf-dog parted ways with his friend. “You go back to the boat, Boris. I’m staying here tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me by your side tonight?” the snow goose asked. “What if you have that dream again? Or what if you start to get cold at night? Who will warm you?” 

Balto gave him a kind smile. “Thanks for caring about me so much, but I’ll be alright. The doctor said I was welcome to watch over my daughter anytime.” He walked over to the back alley that led to the doorway that the doctor had showed him. “Tell Muk and Luk not to worry about me, okay? I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to tell them that they will have a new playmate in a few weeks.”

Boris nodded as he paused and turned away, beginning his trip back to his wooden home. “Good night, Balto,” he muttered into the calming night winds as he watched his comrade enter through the dog door at the bottom of the back entrance. “I hope you start to have better dreams tonight.” 

All through the night, the wolf-dog slept in a small bed that the Doc had set up just for him. His daughter was curled up beside his tan underbelly, letting out quiet whimpering with her father’s ragged tail for extra warmth above her. The old Doc was in his own bed next door, waiting for the pup’s call for her early-morning feeding.

Just as the middle-aged gander had predicted, Balto had another dream that night as he rested with his wolf-like child by his side; the vision wasn’t like the other one that he had those many nights before Jenna’s death – it was more of a visualization of the life he almost had . . . or the life he desperately wished had happened in place of this tragedy. 

He was on the beach right near his grounded boat home, briskly running down the shoreline. His large paws slowly trotted to a halt as he turned around, waiting for his children to follow behind him. The wolf-dog grinned as six small figures ran towards him with barks and yips. The first five were each graced with the burgundy and white colors of their mother, except their markings were slightly different to make them each stand apart from one another. The last pup was the most different of all – it was his surviving daughter, the one that looked more like a wolf . . . just like him. She ran past him, chasing her brothers and sisters – the ones she would never know – and stopped at a small ledge that allowed her mousy-brown body to almost tower over her siblings. With a smile, she closed her eyes and lifted her head up high, letting a howl out of her mouth.

Usually, Balto would have been shocked to hear that wild voice coming from her like that, but he felt that he wasn’t in control of his actions in his dream. Instead of scolding her, he walked up beside the ledge and joined her melodiously high-pitched wail with his own powerful call. His eyes were closed, still in the moment of howling with his little girl, but a third voice – a familiar yet not quite wild tone of howl – synchronized with the other two. Even though he couldn’t see the source of the new sound, he recognized automatically who it was . . . 

Jenna . . .

A thin stream of tears flowed down his shut eyes as his lover’s cry slowly began to evaporate into a sudden breath of wind. The two wolf-like dogs – Father and Daughter – finally concluded their duet, opening their eyes to see five pairs of confused eyes staring back at them in silence. The daughter giggled as she nuzzled her nose against her father’s, soon leaping off of the ledge and barking to her siblings, who began to yip and run behind her; Balto let out a chuckle as he watched them run into the horizon, smiling as a breeze began to swirl a small pile of sand beside him. The wolf-dog again heard that gentle voice that he had fell in love with so long ago, but it sounded quite close to him. 

“Balto . . .”

He turned to his left and took a couple of side-steps the other way in shock at the sight that was now beside him. It was no longer a tiny whirlwind of sand, but now an outlined image of his beloved Jenna – bandanna and all – stood there by his side, her eyes frosted with the glitter of the grainy substance. Before he could even ask why her presence was there, she just looked at him eye-to-eye, giving him a comforting smile as her voice seemed to whisper within the wispy wind that surrounded the gray-brown canine, filling the air with a familiar melody.  

“In a moment, everything can change,

Feel the wind on your shoulder . . .”

Balto’s eyes grew large as he listened carefully to the words. I’ve heard this before . . . he thought. This song, those lyrics . . . it’s all so familiar. Where had I heard it before? He pricked up his ears and opened his mouth slightly in awe and wonder of the beautiful resonance that flooded around him. 

“For a minute, all the world can wait,

Let go of your yesterday . . .”

The wind began to rush, breathing stronger like a hurricane’s gale. It whipped against the gray-brown hybrid, shifting his already roughly-groomed coat. He shut his eyes tightly, preventing any of the sand from getting into his eyes, but as he avoided the minuscule grains, he continued to let the calm aura of his lover’s voice loom through his ears, listening carefully to each lyric’s word and hoping that soon the song would click into his memory. 

“Can you hear it calling?

Can you feel it in your soul?

Can you trust this longing?

And take control . . .”

His dark sepia eyebrows shot up as her melodious queries hit his eardrums. Mother . . . At last, her words had jogged his past recollections. I remember . . . her pure-white fur, her comforting warmth, her calming voice that made me feel safe whenever I was scared . . . A smile began to form on his face as more of his past began to play out in his mind’s eye to the music around him. I remember now . . . She would sing this tune to me and my sisters whenever we couldn’t sleep at night . . . Ah, I miss her . . . At some points, it felt like he could hear his lupine dam’s voice blend in with that of his mate’s. 

“Fly, over up the part of you that wants to hide away

You can shine,

Forget about the reasons why you can’t in life,

And start to try, ‘cause it's your time,

Time to fly . . .”

At the sound of the fading line of the chorus, Balto opened his eyes after his soul-searching and looked beside him, hoping for one final moment and nuzzle with the spirit of his beloved before awakening from his nightly slumber. But the sandy outline of Jenna was no longer in sight, for the small pebbles had scattered around him and returned to the beach shore where it originally came from. 

The images of his children – both the survivor and the five that he lost – were now gone as well. He was all alone now, and he wasn’t on the shoreline near his grounded maritime home either; the terrain was different and dark. The ground below his paws made him shiver – it was solid ice, which fit perfectly with the almost mountainous landscape around him. Only the sight of a few scattered pines added a slight bit of color to the wild yet dismal layout. Not even the light of the moon was visible in the midnight sky-scape, which was a pale shade of navy with the lack of starlight.

Suddenly, an echoing caw filled the air, bouncing from one rocky mountain to another until it reached the wolf-dog’s now pricked-up ears of