Love’s Kismet

(started 12/13/08 -)

Summary: A few days after Balto's heroic acts from the first film, the hybrid and the purebred husky start to reveal their feelings for each other . . . all while someone mysterious from Jenna's past returns with a secretive pact that could tear the new couple apart forever! Can Balto and Jenna's love survive in these times of change or will their fates be altered for good?

Rating: PG for relationship situations, possible foul language and perhaps some other stuff. Just be careful when you read this, okay?

Disclaimer: All characters and events from the original Balto film are the property of Universal Studios, Inc. and do not belong to me; however, any other characters in this piece of fiction are fan-characters created by the author, Juuchan17, and should not be used by anyone else without permission first.

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Author’s Note:

After reading a popular story about Balto and Jenna’s early life together (hours or days after the ending of the first film, leading up to the beginning of "Wolf Quest" – you know who you are, you guys. *wink-wink*) as well as a couple of others, I thought that perhaps I could create my own beginnings of their relationship, adding events that could only make their love become stronger before they became first-time parents.

So this idea was born in my head – What if someone tried to separate them from each other and there was nothing either one could do about it?

I know, it’s all been done before, but I wanted to make this enjoyable and a complete test on both Balto and Jenna’s newfound love for each other, especially since they were both new to this emotion, new to love, and a bit shy about how they really felt.

I really hope you enjoy this piece of work, and perhaps it may help to inspire some other shy author out there to continue Balto and Jenna’s love story in their own little way.

- Juuchan17

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Prologue

It was snowing when the malamute left the borders of his town. The latches on his dark collar glinted on the patches of deep snow in front of him, but he was too busy to notice. The sun was rather low – it was early morning in Teller, Alaska, a medium-sized town close to the Bering Strait. The brown-furred male could only run as he began to enter the woodland paradise that would lead him towards the mountains – now was not the time to walk or dilly-dally.

I must hurry . . . the sooner I arrive there, the happier my future will become . . .

The words of the last conversation he had with his father continued to resound in his ears as he traveled, reminding him of the purpose of his journey.

- - - - - - - -

"Creek, come in here for a moment." A ragged, old voice caused the brown dog’s ears to prick up.

"Father?" Creek responded, poking his head into the room where the voice came from. "It’s me."

"Come in, son," the older male called again. "Closer . . . yes, come near the fire so I can see you clearer."

Obeying his father’s orders, Creek moved each gray-marked paw into the room, which was more like a drafty barn, one that the humans didn’t bother to use anymore. With every step, the floor creaked and cried out in squeaks, but the younger male ignored it.

"You called for me, Father?" Creek asked once he could see the other male in his sights. The male was a faded gray, obviously showing his years, and although he still maintained that powerful physique of a sledding champion, Creek’s father had retired from racing a couple of years ago to enjoy raising his children. He still wore his leather collar proudly, which bore the name he was known as ever since he was young – he was called Streak.

"Ah, yes I did . . ." The patriarch nodded slowly, his grayish-blue eyes gleamed at the sight of his son standing in front of him. "You’re no longer a pup anymore, I see."

"I’m on your old sled team now, Father. You should come to see me take off once and a while." Creek had inherited his mother’s wood-colored coat and kind, brown eyes, only receiving the gray of his father’s markings. The fire was warm and inviting, but now was not a time for relaxing, the youngling would soon find out.

"Maybe . . . when I feel the strength to go outside early in the morning," the elder slowly rose to his paws, leaning down to stretch his legs. A few whispered cracks sounded before he finished, sitting down once again and looking up at Creek with a sense of seriousness in his eyes. "But now is the time for you to fulfill your destined purpose, Creek."

The youngling tilted his head in confusion. "I don’t understand, Father," he responded. "What do you mean by ‘destined purpose’ anyway?"

Streak let out a deep sigh, his head fell while his eyes remained locked on his son. "It’s been a couple of years since I made the deal . . . and now it is time to keep my side of the bargain."

"What deal?" Each word uttered by his aging father made Creek even more perplexed, almost to the point of becoming angry. "Please explain this to me in English, Father!"

A heavy pause loomed between Father and Son until finally, Streak began to tell him the story.

"It was less than three years ago when Misty and I first met them, the two huskies from Nome. They were just like us – the male was a dark-brown sledding dog and his devoted red-furred mate was about a couple of weeks from whelping pups – and the two of them were quite generous. Your mother and I were wonderful hosts to them in this very barn, showing them around town, introducing them to relatives and trusting friends."

"Why were they there, Father?" Creek asked. "That seems weird for them to be far from home with a litter on the way."

"Indeed, we thought the same thing too," Streak continued to explain. "However, she wasn’t not afraid of giving birth away from her homeland – this was her second litter, after all, and with her mate being in the sledding business during this important time, she was strong-willed about standing by his side no matter where he traveled. It was a good thing that his musher left them here for the next two months – she gave birth a week after we met, nurturing six little joys at her side. Misty was nearly ready to deliver herself – she was carrying you and your siblings at the time – and by the time she did, the Nome litter was a couple of weeks old and we began to make . . . plans for the future."

"What kinds of plans were they?"

"Ones that would lead to a brighter future for our families, my son," Streak only replied. "and one that centers around you . . ."

That little addition at the end made Creek let out a small whine. "Around me?"

"Yes, my son," the elder nodded his head slowly. "There is someone waiting . . . someone you need to find in Nome."

"Who is it?" His ears pricked up with a strange sense of curiosity. "How will I find this person, Father?"

"It was a she-pup . . . one that I last remember being wrapped in a red-orange cloth – she was just a pup then when her parents and the musher returned them all home, so I don’t know what she’ll look like now." His head fell to the ground almost sadly as he sighed. "However, I know that now is the arranged time that we promised . . . those huskies will be waiting for you at their telegraph post, so you must leave tonight."

"Tonight?" Creek barked suddenly. "But what about my race? The musher is depending on me to be there!" He sighed out of frustration. "Oh, he’ll be so worried if I’m not there in the morning!"

"Son, this is more important than serving your musher," Streak almost leapt forward, taking his son aback with his rash tone. "This is the will of your family, and your future depends on you leaving as soon as possible!" He paused, using his muzzle to lift Creek onto his feet. "Now, the journey to Nome will take you at least a day’s travel the sooner you leave. I’ve heard the telegraph saying that a strong snowstorm is coming closer to here, so you must be prepared to withstand it and survive."

"Aren’t you coming too, Father?" Creek asked. "I’m sure those two huskies would love to see you once again."

"Oh, the storm would claim me," the husky shook his head, chuckling a little at his son’s reminder of the dogs that he and his mate had befriended. "I’m far too old to be meddling in a blizzard, although I would love to see them again." My time is almost at an end already, he added in his thoughts, but he surprised his son with a smile. "But Son, this is your journey, not mine. I shall see them again, but now is your turn to complete the contract that we had made."

After a couple of hours of rest, Creek rose to his paws and began his journey with the night sky slowly brightening up with the call of the dawn. Streak nuzzled his son with his nose, leaving him with a few words of where he should go.

"The telegraph office is the first building on the right," he said with a sense of rush in his voice. "I think that if you tell them of me, they should recognize who you are immediately."

"And if they don’t?" Creek asked nervously.

Streak paused, understanding how his son must feel, being rushed into such a situation arranged by adults. "Trust me, they will not forget." A smile filled his gray face, as if this would be the last time he would see his young son again. "They will tell you everything you need to know once you arrive there, including the whereabouts of the one in the cloth. I trust them with my own life." With a last nuzzle, the gray male's eyes fell solemnly. "Be careful, my Son."

"I will," Creek returned the smile, nodding as he began to set off on his journey. "See you real soon, Father."

Watching his son fade out of sight into the mists of falling snow, Streak took a deep breath and

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