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Ralph raised his paw up, revealing the swelling near his claw. “Yeah, I-I do. I’ve had it for a while now, but how did-” he stuttered, eyes wide. He was baffled, but Kirby was laughing it up.

“Haha! Ralph, she’s got your number! Do me next, do me!” He exclaimed.

The door opened, and Mr. Simpson’s figure appeared as he walked in from the darkness outside. In his hand was a brown paper sack. However, the strong scent emanating from it did little to conceal what was contained inside.

“I’m back!” He announced, as he kicked his heels against the ground, shaking the snow that had compacted itself inside of the treads of his boots free. “And, I brought you all a midnight snack!” He emptied the bag on the counter, a sizably long link of sausages pouring onto the cutting board.

“Hold that thought, Sable.” Kirby retracted what he just said, his interest more attuned the food in front of him.

“Give me just a second.” Mr. Simpson said as he removed his coat and boots. “Ohhhhhhhh-Kay! Now, where did Dusty and Kodi get off too?” He asked, noticing their missing presence. “I thought I told you to keep an eye on them!” He joked to Sable while he made his way to the living room. Down by the hearth, he saw Kodi and Dusty fast asleep. Dusty was curled up alongside him, her head resting along his back while Kodi’s ear twitched once lazily. Mr. Simpson smiled at the two, and more quiet than normal, made his way back to the kitchenette.

“They’re fast asleep.” He informed them, though they all knew before he did. “ Must have had quite a night. I’ll just save some for them for the morning.”

“He’s saving some for the morning? That must mean-” Ralph pondered out loud.

“You three, gather round!” He removed the plastic wrapping from several of the sausages before he placed them into separate dishes. Ralph and Kirby both gazed upwards, the aroma of the sausages tantalizing them to the point of nearly drooling.

“Hold up you two, budge on out of the way for a second so I can squeeze past.” Mr. Simpson sidled between the Kirby and Ralph, and placed a dish in front of Sable. “Ladies first. And, you are our guest.” He told her. He rubbed her head with his hand, and returned to the counter. “Don’t let this one near your dish. He’s got an appetite.” He pointed to Ralph while he fetched another dish from the cupboard above him.

“Me?” Ralph exclaimed, sounding surprised.
“Ha! It’s not like it’s never happened before!” Kirby ribbed him.
“That was one time, and it was an accident. I thought it was mine-”

“As a matter of fact, don’t let either of these two get close. They’re both ravenous when they want to be.”

Ralph snickered at Kirby’s dumbfounded expression, his own expression positively beaming when his trove of savory meat was laid before him by Mr. Simpson. Without hesitation, Ralph started chomping away.

Not five seconds later, Kirby also received his, and followed suit. He was chewing through a particularly sinewy piece when he noticed Sable. “Well? Are you going to eat?” He asked her.

“Wait! What are you – AH!” He felt his neck shift under the direction of Sable’s firm paws. For a moment, it stung sharply. But then, relief washed over him, his stiff neck suddenly feeling more flexible and better than ever. It not only felt normal, it felt good!

“Wow. Wo-o-ow.” Kirby sighed as he tilted his head all around, amazed at how easy it was. “Yeah, that's better. MUCH better. I didn’t even think about it, until you worked your magic. I thought it was just normal aches and pains that came with the job.” He admitted. At first, Kirby was listening half-heartedly to her. After all, Ralph’s hangnail had been bothering him for ages, and her doctor’s orders seemed so generic and simplistic. Impressed though he was by the speed of deducting Ralph’s ailment, he didn’t think too much of her guidance. However, her personal demonstration on him changed his mind.

“That was surprisingly good. How'd you - do that?” He asked her, still turning his head around. He decided it would be best to stop, lest he risk injury again, but it felt so surreal to have no aches that he could hardly resist.

Ralph, the witness to her action, lifted his head from his dish, several bites of food still remaining. Silently, he loped to the spindly chair that Mr. Simpson sat in, and uttered a soft whine. If her actions could change Kirby’s outlook and condition, he didn’t want to waste any time in following her advice to him. Mr. Simpson, nibbling slowly on his own piece of sausage, looked down to the source of the noise.

“What’s the matter, Ralph?” He asked him, looking at the dog’s food dish, a modest amount of food still residing within. He wasn’t asking for more food it seems. Ralph lifted his right paw, placing it on the side of Mr. Simpson bent knee. Curious, the musher gently grasped it, and examined it. As soon as he felt the swollen toe, and saw Ralph cringe, he got out of his seat and knelt down to look it over further.

“Oh goodness, no wonder you came to me. Did you tear your nail? It’s infected – come on, let me see if I can do anything.” He led Ralph to the restroom, where the first aid kit was placed. Ralph followed, determined to walk as tall and straight as he could. He didn’t want to appear like he needed help, so much as he simply wanted it.

As he vanished to the restroom, soft jostling sounding from Mr. Simpson investigating the medical kits’ contents, Kirby continued with Sable.

“However you did it, thanks. I’ll try to take it easy, but if we end up barreling over a cliff again, all bets are off!” He joked. “It’s a good thing you found Kodi and Dusty, or they found you, or however it happened. Something about a porcupine?” He asked, hoping to coax at least some of the elusive information about his friend’s evening about. “Did Dusty really get stuck in the nose?”

“Right…” Kirby nodded his head slowly. “Right, that’s absolutely right.” Kirby was lost, trying to decipher what she just told him. Something about battling messages with horseshoes. How would that work? He hoped it didn’t involve horseshoes being thrown at postal workers. Could dogs even play horseshoes? He had never tried, personally. Idioms aside, he thought he understood the rest of what she said.

“So, it’s kind of a… good thing that Dusty got stabbed?” He asked. “I mean, it’s not GOOD, but it’s like… in a roundabout way…” He was clearly struggling to properly word what he meant.

Ralph yelped loudly from the bathroom. “Shhhh… Shhhh… it’s alright! I know it hurts, but it’s for your own good. Let me get this on, and you can go finish your food, ok?” Mr. Simpson told him reassuringly.

Thankful for the distraction, Kirby quickly finished up what he was saying. “Long story short, it’s the little things that are often just as important as the bigger things, right? We just pay them less mind if the effects aren’t immediate.” It dawned on him as he was saying it. He felt more intelligent just saying it, it sounded so… philosophical.

“All done. We’ll see the vet in the morning, just to make sure. Go on and finish your food, Ralph.” The light turned off in the restroom, and Ralph walked out slowly. He smelled faintly of something pungent, but Kirby couldn’t place exactly what it was.

“It’s some rubbing alcohol.” Ralph told him, observing Kirby sniffing the air profusely. “It’s supposed to make it heal better, but all it did was hurt it more! I hope Dusty doesn’t see this.” He raised his paw to show Kirby and Sable. It was now adorned in a shabby bandage that Mr. Simpson had applied. He couldn't imagine how much teasing he would get about it now. Not wanting to possibly offend Sable and her advice with his complaining, he mentioned. “But, I’m sure it’s for my own good, like you and he said.”

He walked gingerly to his food dish, eating the rest of his meat.

“So, Sable, you’ll be staying with us tonight, right? You said you lived out in a cave, how long has it been since you’ve slept by a nice warm fireplace?” Kirby asked like a salesman trying to ply hard earned money from a reluctant customer. “Follow me, you can find yourself a comfortable spot.” He led her down the hallway, into the living room basking in an orange glow from the embers kindling in the fireplace. “So, take your pick.” He whispered, mindful of Kodi and Dusty sleeping nearby. He softly sprang upwards onto a basket-like chair, a deep blue cushion providing a thick padding.

The sun came up on the sleepy little town, down quite a ways from Nome. White Mountain, still recovering from the scares of the night before seemed eerily quiet. A tension resided in the air, a tension that lacked resolution. It seemed most unbefitting for a day warranting celebration; it was Christmas Eve. Only thing was, it didn’t feel like in the slightest.

The city’s youth began the day as the normally did, by going to convene with their friends and discuss the holidays. Not all of them did. Many parents were concerned about how safe their children might be. There were rumors of a massive beast that had attacked the night before, after all. What responsible parent would allow their children to run free and easy when something so dangerous could be lurking around the corner? Much to the contrary of the holiday spirit, the mood in the town could best be described as oppressive.

Behind the post office, Mr. Simpson led his sled dog Ralph outside. He made sure to be quiet; he didn’t want to wake his other dogs. They needed their rest, as the night before had been especially taxing too. Besides, how were they going to get home to their families if his dogs were too tired to stand up straight? Ralph had begrudgingly followed Mr. Simpson to meet the local veterinarian, to have his shoddily bandaged paw inspected more thoroughly. Mr. Simpson knew that the office would probably be closed, but he hoped that the vet would be willing to just see Ralph for a moment at his home. Sharing a passion for dogs, they were both on good terms with each other. That, and it was Christmas.

In the living room, four other dogs lay. Closest to the blackened fireplace were Dusty and Kodi, Dusty nestled closely to Kodi, her head resting along his back. Sable was curled into a ball, notable separate from the rest of the group. Beneath her was a soft beige carpet, much different than the cave floors she was used to. On the floor in front of a basket-woven chair, a large brown dog, Kirby, lay on the ground in a most peculiar arrangement. His front legs were running parallel to the floor to along his side, his legs splayed out behind him. Kirby’s head was resting atop a large blue pillow that he had removed from the chair behind him.

He grumbled softly until he awoke. He rolled onto his back, and rolled over again until he was upright. He sat up, yawning as he did so. Taking note of the other sleeping canines, he crept out of the living room into the hallway serving as an access point for every other important room in the building.

“…Can’t believe they are still sleeping. Must have had some night…” he muttered to himself as he licked some water out of his dish. After he had wet his whistle with water, he roved over to the food dishes lining the wall. He noted that two of them had sausage in it, presumably for Kodi and Dusty. Kirby was tempted for just a piece or two from each, but decided against it. One of the other dishes had already been emptied. Was it Ralph’s? Kirby hadn’t seen him this morning, maybe he and Mr. Simpson (also absent) had left to the vet already. His owner’s boots and coat were missing from the rack nearest the door, so that was probably it.

He munched on his food, as quietly as he could. Their dog food was a little on the stale side; the bag was probably the same one that was here when they used the residence last year. Kirby didn’t care, he was still hungry. Maybe Sable’s talk of his meta-whatever it was being faster than the others had truth to it. He laughed to himself, and noticed movement from the corner of his eye as he was shaking his head.

“Sable?” he asked her. “Good morning. Did you sleep well? I didn’t wake you, did I?” He lowered his voice noticeably on the last question, remembering that Kodi and Dusty were still asleep.

"It's alright," said Sable, smiling as she headed over to her foodbowl, looking at it. She wasn't used to eating dogfood, but she was perfectly fine with it. "I'm used to hunting for my food to be honest," she replied, giving a smile. "And occasionally the inn owner gives me something to eat, but not all the time. Normally I have to kill for food, guess that's why I was lucky to be part wolf..." she said, eating a little bit.

She then looked to Kirby. "There's a famious wolfdog in Nome, where you're all from, Balto, right?" she asked, curious, she knew about Balto, but she wanted to see something else. "Saved the entire town during a disease outbreak, now that's an impressive act... People are right to call him a hero."

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Dusty gave a wide yawn, looking over at him with a smile. "Morning, Kodi," she said, giving him a nuzzle and lick on the nose. Truth be told, she'd been awake as well for just a little bit, but thought Kodi had needed rest, unknowing he'd been awake longer than her. That and she just felt good sleeping so close to him, smelling his scent, hearing his heart beat. It was reassuring.

Dusty slowly got up and stretched. "Sleep well?" she asked, feeling rather good herself after a goodnight's sleep. "Surprisingly, I didn't have one dream about a monster or anything..."

"I actually figured that Kodi was related to Balto. A wolfdog from Nome, home of the famious Balto, and NOT being related to him is rather unlikely. Wolfdogs aren't all that common, particularally in the same town, unless they're somehow related," said Sable, thinking about it. She watched Kirby as he boasted. "Oh really?" she asked when he boasted about having taught Kodi how to be a sled dog. "Then I'm sure you can tell me the first lesson you taught him on that subject."

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Dusty gave a snicker when Sable called his bluff. "Do you think Sable's noticed Kirby's left ear twitches when he lies?" she asked. "She's good at stuff like that, eitherway, I can't wait to see how Kirby tries to get himself out of that one..." she said, in truth, Balto had been the one to teach Kodi everything he knew. Even if he'd only ran a sled dog team once or twice, Balto had watched sled dogs and their training all his life, enough to know how to do it himself. "Kind of serves him right, though, trying to take credit for something he didn't do."