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Kodi looked at his mother with a smile. “Sure did. It started with a couple of rough patches, but it was smooth sailing ever since. We had the wind at our backs the entire time.” He glossed over Kirby’s behavior, not wanting to make him uncomfortable in front of the entire team and then some. “At any rate, I’m just glad to be home. Later on tonight, we’ll tell you about the ridiculous stuff that happened last night.” He wanted to gloss over details with this too. Jenna already worried like crazy when he and the others left, and hearing about all of the mishaps from yesterday, especially with Dusty, Kodi, and the mongrels, would only serve to increase her unease.

“Now you’ve got me even more curious!” Balto chirped. He was looking forward to a small nap, but wanted to wait for everyone else to finish. At the rate Ralph and Kirby were going, it would take substantially longer than he hoped. Balto took only a few bites of his food as Mr. Simpson walked out the door, calling out to someone across the street. In front of the post office, Fang was eating soggy dog food bits from the snowy ground. “Hey, Fang!” He called out to his trainee. “Come on over and have some of this, it’s a lot better when it’s dry!”

----------------

Mr. Elswit clambered down the street, towing along a heavy wooden package with him. He was grateful it had wheels, but they did him very little good on the soft, snowy roads of Nome. The townsfolk here didn't seem to think that shovelling or plowing the snow was of high priority. Not like Anchorage. Then again, he hadn't seen an automobile since he had arrived here almost two days ago, so the residents probably didn't see a need for it.

Once again, the wheels on the box found themselves ensnared in a divot formed in the snow. Cursing the inconvenience of it all, Mr. Elswit mustered a forceful pull, and his box was freed yet again. He considered simply carrying its contents by hand, but knew that it was a bad idea. If he slipped or fell, his very livelihood would become endangered.

Mr. Elswit was a photographer, and in his box was his camera. He worked on a semi-freelance basis for the statewide distributed "Alaska Sportsman". However, he wasn't here for work; he was here to relax. Every year, he would visit his mother Joanne in Nome for the holidays. The trip seemed to change every year. For many years, he always would arrive by way of a dog sled team. This certainly wasn't his preferred mode of travel. It was cold, bumpy, and above all, time consuming. He would catch a train to Nenana, and then utilize one of the rental services there. It necessitated almost a month of time off from work to visit his family, and most of it was spent travelling! He didn't mind though; one of the beauties of freelancing was the flexible scheduling. As a family man, this was especially valuable if he wanted to visit his family on a whim. Of course, working on a fringe like he did meant that his funding was especially volatile, so he had to do so sparingly in case a personal emergency arose and work wasn’t there. He submitted enough pictures regularly to the Alaska Sportsman that he might as well have been employed, but he earned more money per photograph when he could dictate the terms of his pictures being used. He had a talent, and he wasn’t afraid to use it for his own ends.

Thankfully, because he traveled enough for his job, he had made many friends in many different fields. One of his friends happened to be a bush pilot, who agreed to fly him out to wherever his route would take him for a very modest fee. Nome happened to be in his list of destinations. With the relative stability provided by flight, he was able to feel confident in bringing his camera with him to Nome. He paid for the cheekily priced protective casing regardless, but considered that more of an investment than an impulse purchase.

Today, he was dragging his camera to the church. His nephew, Ciaran, would be performing in the pageant in a leading role, and he wanted to capture the image of his shining moment on film. Even in the cold weather, he was breaking into a sweat from the resistance the camera container was providing. He didn’t remember the church being so far from his home!

On the main drag, he passed several stores. A surprisingly large amount of people were out and about, and a good crowd was gathered around the church in the distance. It still seemed such a distance… He set the camera down, and stretched his arms, giving them a small reprieve. He heard several barks from across the street, and he observed the source. A number of dogs were gathered around the post office, in the very near vicinity of a sled adorned with packages and sacks of what Mr. Elswit assumed to be mail and postage. This intrigued him greatly; He hadn’t seen a dog sled running with mail in many years. Practically in the blink of an eye almost two years ago, planes had become the norm for mail delivery. Did this small town not get the memo?

He looked down at the wooden box on the ground, and felt daunted with the prospect of carrying it again. With a sigh, he bent down and grasped the handle and feebly tried to drag it further. He nearly slipped and fell on his behind as the snow gave way beneath him. His hopes that no one saw the embarrassing incident were dashed instantly when he heard a shout from across the street. “Hey there, you alright?

----------------------------

Mr. Simpson stepped back inside, watching the unusually peaceful quarrel surrounding the dividing of their sustenance unfold amongst his dogs. Per usual, Ralph and Kirby were batting at each other attempting to divert the other from their "rightful share."

He brought a third sack to the counter, where Mr. Connor was eagerly sorting and organizing them. The postal communication between White Mountain and Nome was so frequent, Mr. Connor could practically tell from the color and size of the envelopes alone who they were bound for.

“Here’s another one, Mr. Connor” grunted Mr. Simpson as he set the bag down.
“Good, good. An awful lot of mail, I see. It’s quite a number of packages especially. Christmas Gifts?” He wondered aloud, as though Mr. Simpson would know their contents better than he.
“I guess so.” Mr. Simpson shrugged in return, before about-facing to the door again.

As he made his way out the door, the bell rang, and he could hear Mr. Connor utter inside. “No stamps on these ones? Must be really busy in White Mountain if these made it through…” He would be sure to notify Mr. Connor of the presumed situation regarding those letters when he returned with yet another sack. As he made his way down the step, he heard the unmistakable sound of slippage. The unmistakable sound of a boot slicing through the snow as it lost traction. Quickly zeroing on the source, he witnessed a man next to a large wooden suitcase of sorts practically falling over across the street.

“Hey there, You alright?”

Elswit grumbled, shaking it off. He waved his hand jovially to the man across the street, and called “Just a little slick, is all!” His attempt to cease drawing attention to his accident failed, as the other man quickly made his way over towards him, passing by one of the dogs nibbling in the snow just off the front steps.

“Are you sure?” the man asked him, his musher’s cap offset on his head.

“Yeah, yeah.” Elswit nodded, eager to escape further interrogation. “This box is just a bit heavy, that’s all.”

The other man (in a rather forthcoming fashion if Elswit were to describe it) grasped the handle and tried to lift the camera. “Really? Oof, no kidding!” Despite his exclamation of surprise, the man lifted the box upright without too much effort. Elswit blushed at this.

----------------

Sensing that this stranger may need more help than he wanted to ask for, Mr. Simpson offered it up first. “Where to?” He asked simply.

The stranger looked reluctant, but pointed down the road to the chapel. “I’m taking pictures of my nephew in the Christmas pageant later this evening.”

“So what’s in here? Your nephew, or your camera?” Mr. Simpson teased.

The stranger chuckled lightly. “That’s my camera in there, heh. The camera isn’t actually all that heavy. It’s the case that weighs so much.”

Mr. Simpson allowed the case to rest right side up, distracted by the conversation at hand. “I guess that’s heavy duty for you… Who is your nephew?”

--------

“His name is Ciaran. Ciaran Elswit.” Elswit said exasperatedly.

The musher had an expression of a lightbulb going off in head. “Are you Robert Elswit? The famous photographer?”

The man nodded, looking humbled by the adjective “famous”. “Famous? I wouldn’t say that… but my name is Robert Elswit and I am a photographer. Good to meet you, Mister?...” he trailed off expectantly.

“Simpson! Mister Simpson.” Simpson exclaimed, shaking Elswit’s hand energetically. “You’re about the most famous photographer I’ve ever met. I’ve only seen a few at some of the dog sled races, but that counts for something, right?”

“Yeah, haha, I guess!” Elswit laughed at the flattery. “So you’re a racer, I take it?” He pointed at the musher’s cap on Mr. Simpson’s head as his evidence.

“Me? Oh no! I, or rather, WE, are in charge of running the mail to and from Nome.” Mr. Simpson explained, motioning to the dogs behind him.

“Really? An honest to goodness dog sled team still running the post…” Elswit said with a shade of disbelief, having proved his initial estimate correct.

Mr. Simpson raised an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

Elswit shook his head rapidly, trying to stave off any negative aura he might have been emanating. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything about it, I assure you. It’s just that planes and flight have sort of, y’know, pushed sledding teams aside for that sort of thing.”

Mr. Simpson acknowledged this with a low grumble, not liking the insinuations that this man was doling out, intentional or not. “It’s not for a lack of trying on their part. No sir, we’re still holding fast to our traditional method of delivery here. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He added defensively.

A lightbulb of his own went off in Elswit’s head. He was on vacation yes, but he may have stumbled upon a very interesting article here; the last of the canine powered mail delivery systems in Alaska. He wasn’t a writer by craft, but if his idea caught on, he was sure it wouldn’t be difficult to find one back at the Sportsman. Maybe his friend Jeffrey could help… but first, he would need to do his part.

“Say, I know it seems spur-of-the-moment… but would you mind if I possibly took a picture?” He inquired rather suddenly.

Mr. Simpson looked taken aback. “Huh? Of what? The team? Why?” He barraged Elswit with questions rapidly, but Elswit was prepared for an answer already.

“Yes, of your team! I for one find it downright inspiring that you all are sticking to your guns with such faith. I think that an article about it would be hugely fascinating for our readers, and I’d hope it would bolster their appreciation for their fellow canines.” Elswit was always quick on his feet when it came to this sort of persuasion and smooth-talking. If he didn’t find law so tedious, he probably would have become a lawyer. He could tell from Mr. Simpson’s sudden change in demeanor when he brought up his dogs being replaced that he respected them a great deal. Using key words such as “inspiring” and “appreciation for our fellow canines” to show that he felt likewise about them seemed a powerful form of ingratiation. Much to his satisfaction, it worked.

“You know, that’s not such a bad idea. Why not? I definitely think they deserve some recognition for the things they do. Especially after the run today, hoo boy!” Mr. Simpson tilted his head in approval.

Elswit nodded his head, barely paying attention to the story that the musher was regaling. He had opened the wooden box from the snap open fixture on top, and the two halves folded downward revealing a large camera with cumbersomely large light bulb inset in a felt liner. On the opposite half, several metal rods comprising the mount were folding on themselves. “Here, would you take this?” Mr. Elswit requested, offering the assembly to Mr. Simpson, who accepted it with a mild curiosity.

“Is this the stand for it? You want me to set it up?” He assumed on both counts.

Elswit hastily maintained the rotating lens on the camera, and agreed. “Yeah, set it up in front of the dogs. It’s a tripod, just so you know. Make sure the three legs are even, if you can.” He didn’t doubt he’d have to do some readjusting, but getting it set up was a pain. One of the legs in particular was a mite stubborn, and Mr. Simpson’s arm strength far outclassed his own. One of the perks of having to hang on to a dog sled for a living, he supposed.

Mr. Simpson spread the supports up in the middle of the street. It was as simple as pulling them apart, and then pulling the rods down, extending them. As he set it up, the apparatus sunk into the snow just a hair. “Like this?” He called back to Mr. Elswit, noticing the curious glances that his team and the others were giving him.

Fang carefully walked over and got a bit of food himself, hungry as could be. He was glad to have a REAL meal in his stomach now, it felt good to be able to eat and not still be hungry, it happened a lot. He looked up at the strange occurence going on across the street. "What's going on?" he asked, then eyed the camera in confusion and a little suspecion. "And what's that?"

"Relax Fang, its just a cemra, a professional one," explained Jenna, looking over. "Balto's had his picture taken by them a lot," she explained,cuddling up with her mate. "For saving Nome and all and the plane race, but that time it was just local papers...I wonder if they're here to take another...Balto, have you done any heroics I'm not aware of recently?" she asked, more confused than anything else.

Rosie was likewas interested and walked over. "Hello mister," she said, looking up at him. "Are you here to take a picture of Balto? That happens a lot," she said, not knowing the real purpose of the camera.

Balto shrugged his shoulders at Jenna’s question. “Not that I know of. I put the heroics on hold for a while for you.” He laughed. He remembered his agreement with Jenna earlier, and it was one he had kept largely for her sake. Barring his recent worries about Kodi, he had been low key about his goings-on around Nome. For one thing, he was getting older, and running like his or someone else’s life depended on it was becoming more and more difficult. The main reason was keeping Jenna from worrying too much. She had always been there for him when he needed him, and he knew she worried very much about him when he was out and about. He figured he owed her that much. She always understood in the end that he had a good cause, but he still didn’t like to put her through the turmoil if he could help it. Thankfully, it had been quiet on that front as of late.

“If I had to guess”, Balto suggested thoughtfully, “It might have something to do with the attacks.” He continued with his rationale. “I can’t think of too many other reasons for someone from out of town to stop by our humble abode. He is from out of town, right?” Balto directed his question to his son, hoping he would be able to shed more light on the character. Balto didn’t spend an awful lot of time in town, so he wasn’t able to keep track of all of the people in and around Nome. That said, the town roster rarely changed. Funny thing about living in such a climate; the people already there were too stubborn to leave, and very few people would willingly move to a place so isolated.

Kodi shook his head slowly, examining the man as carefully as he could at that distance. “No… I’ve never seen him before. But why would he be taking a picture of us if it’s about the attacks?”

“It’s because we’re so awesome, I’ll wager!” Kirby chimed in his two cents. “The fearless dog team that ran despite the risks! Who wouldn’t want a picture of us?” He shook off more snow, trying to make himself presentable for the presumed photo.

Ralph tilted his head, and offered his own perspective. “He was pointing down the street though earlier.” His own eyes followed the visual gesture down the road, where the church stood tall, with several folks bustling about the front doors. “Don’t they usually do something at the church on Christmas Eve?”

Rosy, fearless in her endeavors per usual, approached the man directly, the same question on her mind.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?” Balto mused. “Your idea makes a good bit of sense though, Ralph.” Balto was curious about what the humans did at the church, besides sing. He had never been privy to attending. “Jenna?” He asked the copper husky. “You might know more about this; what DO the humans do in the church on Christmas Eve? I know they wear strange garb and costumes, and they sing.” He realized how foolish his observations sounded, but asking was the only way he would learn.


“Balto?” Mr. Elswit exclaimed. “The wonder dog from the epidemic a few years back?” He supposed the theory made sense. Barring the gold rushes, this small town didn’t seem to have much else going for it. Balto (and the rest of the team) was probably the most famous aspect about the town. “No, little lady, I’m not.” He told her, an idea popping into his head at the same time. “Why? Is he here?”

Mr. Simpson, pulling apart a rather finicky third leg on the camera stand grunted to him. “Sure is! He’s right over there, in fact.” He pointed with a free hand to the wolf dog mingling with the rest of the mail team.

Mr. Elswit was practically giddy with excitement at the notion when he saw the idol standing in the gaggle of canines. “Is THE Balto on your mail team?” He asked the musher with nary a sign of trepidation.

“Oh no! His son is though. That’d be Kodi, the copper tone next to him.” MR. Simpson replied, doing his best to level the stand.

Even though the idea that Balto was on the mail team was a fleeting long shot at best, Elswit still seemed disappointed. The article would have a much more dramatic flair if the town hero was also involved. “Oh…” Shaking away the disappointment that had undoubtedly affixed itself to his face, he answered Rosy’s question in the friendliest way he could manage. He admitted that he had several short comings when it came to addressing children. He was used to schmoozing and addressing adults, who always exacted a measure of professionalism, which made formalities much easier to work with. Children were a bit too dynamic for his taste, much harder to pinpoint. It intimidated him.

“You see, ma’am, we’re taking a picture of the mail team. They are umm… they are very special and unique in that they are one of the only dog teams in Alaska that run the mail! They do a great job, and we want everyone in the world to know about it!”

Elswit personally thought he pulled it off well. A bit too chipper, and a bit on grandiose side. But, exaggeration and hyperbole, he had learned, far outclassed subtlety when it came to getting a perspective across with kids.

He stood up, flashbulb in his right hand, camera in the left. Walking over to the camera tripod, surprisingly even and stable from the lead musher’s handiwork, he asked the girl “Don’t you think so too?”

Jenna smiled. "Well it's actually a lot more important to them than just that, or at least some of them," she explained, looking to the church. "Many humans follow a certain religion, and that religion, which is what the church belongs to, uses this time of year to celebrate the birth of their savior, the being they believe sacrificed himself for their sins. He took the punishment they deserve so they can be forgiven for sins if they're truly repentant. At least that's what they believe. It's real to them after all, so therefore, it's important, right?"

Dusty looked to Kirby. "You really think that's what this is about?" she asked, unsure herself. Had they really dones something THAT impressive just by doing a mundane sled run? She gave it thought and decided MAYBE he was right, but she wanted to wait and see.

Rosie nodded. "Yeah," she replied, looking over at the group. "Kodi is a good dog, I remember when he was just a puppy. Balto taught him how to run, I saw him doing it," she reported, knowing he might not believe her, but didn't really mind. She knew not everyone understood animals like she and Mr. Simpson did. "My dog Jenna is his momma, she's a good dog, she's always been there for me and Balto!"

“Always, huh? My mother is the same way.” Elswit replied slowly. Honestly, he didn’t know a lick about dog sledding. It would have seemed preposterous years ago, but since he relocated to the more metropolitan areas of the state, he rarely interacted with dogs outside of his work travels to the more remote regions. Even then, he let the hired mushers handle most of the interaction between driver and canine. Furthermore, he didn't know how canines worked as families. Frankly, he was surprised that Balto was still hanging around with his son, or vice versa. In his limited experience, he found that outside of puppyhood, dogs didn't seem to emphasize parental bonds. Maybe his son (Kodi, was it?) had separation issues.

As much as he would love to spin the article to include a “Mail team lead dog mentored by legendary Balto, his father!” aspect, he didn’t have any proof. It would be largely impossible to capture in a picture, unless he followed Balto around. He knew that family and kinship was very attractive for readers, but unless Balto could talk, all he had was the word of a little girl. While it was cute, it went beyond a solid photo into speculation, something he didn't much like doing.

----------------

Balto didn’t quite understand the whole philosophy of the sacrifice and “sin siphoning”, but maybe that was why it was a human holiday. As long as they believed and respected it, he would do the same about their beliefs. He hadn’t told anyone besides a sardonic Boris about his contact with a “higher power” when his daughter was facing struggles because it seemed so unfathomable. Jenna would understand, or at the very least, keep an open mind if he finally indulged her in an explanation, but that could wait for another time. Maybe after all was said and done the next couple of weeks. Although he wasn’t a part of the conversation, Kirby shared in Balto’s sentiment to focus on the here and now.

“Shhhhhhhh!” He made a hushing sound to Dusty, trying to overhear the conversation between the man and Rosy. “I think… I think he said he’s taking our picture because we’re special!” He whipped around to face the others, his chest puffed out with pride. “You hear that? Finally getting some recognition!” He oozed self-indulgence.

“Yes, Kirby, WE are.” Kodi reminded him that, despite his outstanding performance, they were all a team. Keeping Kirby’s ego in check was a full time job for Kodi, but Balto’s teachings of the dangers of pride regarding Steele kept Kodi diligently toiling away. “At least try to be gracious about it, alright?” Scuffling sounds behind him caused Kodi to investigate. He found a most flustered Ralph gnawing at his boot. “Ralph? What’s wrong? Is your paw alright?” Kodi questioned him concernedly. Ralph rarely moved with such a sense of urgency.

Ralph stopped tugging at the laces of his boot for a second to address Kodi’s concerns. “My paw is fine Kodi, but this is a fancy photographer, isn’t it? What will others think of me when they see me with this on?” He pointed the noticeably desecrated shoe at Kodi.

Kodi laughed good naturedly at his friend’s misgivings. “Haha! Don’t worry about it! No one is going to notice it! I really don’t think that anyone will give you a hard time about it either. Besides Mel, how many dogs do you know that look at newspapers outside of sleeping on them? You can hide it behind one of us if it will make you feel better.”

------------------------

After some small adjustments to the leggings, the camera was in place and ready to go. Mr. Elswit marveled at how dead center the shot was, and luckily, the words “US Post” were visible on several of the sacks (as well as the “US” on the building) for proof of the teams occupation. All of the dogs seemed to notice him, but none of them appeared distraught. He wished that humans were as easy going about being captured on film.

Mr. Simpson observed the photographer surveying his team, and then looked at the team. He noticed that Jenna, Fang, and Balto were all in the picture, though none of them were on the team.

“Do you want me to move the others out of the line of sight on that thing?” He queried Mr. Elswit.
“What?” Elswit answered distractedly. “No, no, they are fine.” He told the musher, not wanting to risk the frame looking too empty. He still was clamoring for that woman-and-children family appeal that the little girl beside him had brought up, and he was stricken with a great idea.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” He began confidently to the red-haired child. “Would you be interested in being in this picture as well?”

"Really?" asked Rosie excitedly. "I get to be in the picture too?" she asked, looking rather excited by the prospect. She'd been in photos before with Balto, but this seemed really important. Sure, that was important too, but just being in the shot sounded really cool. And, while older, she was still a child after all, so it excited her.

"Hey, Mr. Simpson," called a man walking by. "Glad you got back ok. With that monster in the woods, we were scared."

"There's some kind of monster out in the woods," Rosie said, showing a little fear. "But Kodi and the others are brave dogs, they did the run and weren't afraid at all! Right, Mr. Simpson?"

-----------------

Dusty looked to Ralph. "Yeah, just hide it behind us if you don't want the camera to see it," she said, reassuringly. She could understand not wanting to be humiliated by it. She'd had to wear a cone one time and was embarassed as could be. She knew how that felt.

Fang looked to the camera. "Do you think everyone will be ok with me in the shot?" he asked, a little concerned. He didn't want to be a bother. After all, he did look like the most infamous dog in Nome.

“Right you are, Rosy!” Mr. Simpson boasted. “My team is unwavering. I couldn’t be more proud of them.” He quickly made his was over to them, and stood behind the rest of his team. The picture was about them first and foremost, after all. He knew that his team understood him, and as a result, they knew the danger that was out there. Still, they knew they had a job to do, and they pulled it off with panache. He raised his hand to Rosy, and beckoned to her. “Come on over, dear. Let’s get you ready for the picture too. Who do you want to sit next to?” He waved his hand in front of him, like a salesman dramatically displaying his wares.

“He’s one hundred percent correct, Rosy.” Mr. Elswit agreed, using her name for the first time since he finally learned it. “Make yourself comfortable.” Compulsively, like he usually did, he checked the film. Like it usually was, it was full and clear, with no ghosting indicating former use. Just one time he had missed on an extraordinary photo opportunity because of an ill stocked film supply. Never again, he told himself.

Inside, Mr. Elswit thought that this vacation was turning out to be a treasure for his craft. There was a diamond in the rough dog team running the post, and a monster attacking folks in the woods. He had heard of the attacks when he arrived in town of course, but until the passerby had mentioned it, he hadn’t correlated the implications to include the dog teams running, including the one in front of him.

They were risking life and limb to do their job, and still they accomplished it. Though he had been in town only a couple of days, Elswit couldn’t wait to get back to work. He had a wonderfully two-sided tale on his hand; One of hope and courage to appeal to the more sensitive types, and a horror story of monsters and murders for the sensational side of the tabloid. The gold that initially drew crowd to Nome may have been gone, but he had found himself a hefty nugget, so to speak. Although he wouldn’t be writing the article, his picture would be the thing to draw folks in. They would think of the events, and their minds eye would be filled with visions of this picture – HIS picture.

“Just let me know when you are settled in, alright?” He called to the girl as she scrambled to the herd of dogs. His finger was already itching to press the button.

-----------

As Ralph and Dusty arranged themselves, unwittingly moving her closer to the forefront of the picture, Kodi resolutely moved his paw onto Fang’s back, trying to pull him closer.

“If you are going to be on this team, I see no reason why you wouldn’t be in a picture with us.” He said reassuringly. “You’ll be just fine, alright? Whether you look like Steele or not, you’ve got to let yourself be seen in a better light in order to shake that reputation. Being in a picture with us, as one of us, is just a first step.”

Kirby sighed deeply next to them, his paws kneading the ground uneasily. Kodi barely noticed it, and he hoped that whatever phobia Kirby was nursing could be overcome, for his and Fang’s sake.

From behind the camera, Rosy giddily made her way towards the group of dogs. It looked as though she would in the picture too! Sensing that the time was near, Kodi tried to look as dignified and regal as he could, a trying task for a humble canine. It was his first out of town newspaper picture, and he wanted to look his best.

Balto couldn’t help but laugh at the sight to Jenna. “I think we did alright with that one.” He told his mate quietly, tenderly.

Rosie gave it some though and first ran up to Fang and gave him a hug. "Get ready for the picture, Kodi," she advised, then ran over to Balto and Jenna and took her place behind them after giving each a hug.

------------------

Dusty leaned against Kodi. "Get ready, he's about to take the picture," she said, smiling lightly. Hey, if she was getting a picture, why shouldn't she show she cared about Kodi while doing it? Her mother might see it somehow. She looked to Kodi, hoping this didn't make him uncomfortable.

Fang decided to stay and get his photo taken, but decided to quickly do some grooming and get his fur presentable. He did as best he could and set forwards, which hid his figure well, since he still wasn't the healthiest dog. He positioned himself well and looked presentable overall. He was still nervious though as he looked up to the photographer, but tried to hide it.

Mr. Elswit grinned as he watched all of the dogs arrange and poise themselves. It was as if they knew they were getting their picture taken. From the scruffy looking dog frantically licking himself, to the gray husky posing with the copper toned Kodi next to it…

---

Kodi gasped sharply as he felt Dusty leaning against him. He quickly recovered from his surprise, and looked over to her. Her head leaned against his shoulder, rubbing him gently in the process. He smiled, and taking care not to offset their balance too much, leaned against her in return. The couple, in their pseudo embrace, supported each other. Both were eagerly, wordlessly, anticipating proof of their companionship on film.

---

…to the large brown and blue-ish dogs behind them…

---

Ralph fidgeted with his boot, trying to position it behind Dusty’s tail as best he could. It was, unfortunately for him, waving swiftly in the air as she was courting about with Kodi. Next to him, Kirby was standing tall and proud, eager to soak up as much of the limelight as he could. Not a difficult task, considering the size difference. Watching the three dogs around him (even Fang was doing his best to be seen!) brought about a change in Ralph’s demeanor. He made himself comfortable, his paw’s covering no longer a concern, and stepped to the side behind Fang, his height casting a shadow on the wolfdog. He didn’t want to be remembered for slinking about behind the rest of the mail team during a time of crisis; he wanted to be recognized as just as valuable and forthright a member as the rest of them! Kirby looked over to his friend’s determined expression, before turning back to the camera with a smile alight on his face.

---

…to Balto, Rosy, and Jenna.

---

Balto softly pushed his snout against Rosy’s warm, jacketed body as she hugged him, doing as best he could to subtly return the favor without causing a ruckus or upsetting the photographer. He wasn’t on the mail team, of course, but he would stand at the peak of the distant Mount McKinley to show his support for them. He didn’t much like being photographed, but if it would help to lend some sort of credos to his son and the rest of the team’s endeavors, he had zero qualms about participating. Rosy was standing behind he and Jenna, clearly excited to be photographed with her favorite dogs in Nome. As Balto glanced at Jenna, his personal favorite dog in Nome, he couldn’t resist the same feelings of elation. He sat back relaxingly, waiting for the telltale flash from the camera.

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Mr. Simpson surveyed his team once more, watching the silent camaraderie unfold. He could tell from the rapt attentiveness they all exuded that they knew. They knew this was their time to shine. Even Fang, Balto, and Jenna could sense it. As Mr. Elswit started a countdown with his fingers behind the camera, Mr. Simpson rested his eyes on the lens’ curious glass, uttering but a single phrase as the lightbulb atop the camera illuminated in but a split second.

“That’s my team.”

Dusty blinked as her vision corrected itself after the picture was taken, the flash was still blinding, but not that bad. She smiled to Kodi. "I think that went pretty well, don't you?"

Fang shivered. "Um...did I do ok?" he asked, looking to the others, unsure of himself as he always was. He hoped he'd at least made himself presentable enough as not to embarrase everyone else, that was the very last thing he wanted to do in any way, shape, or form. Still, he was rather glad it was over, but a bit excited to. He just really hoped he hadn't messed up somehow.

Jenna looked to Balto. "I think that went pretty good," she said, looking around the group. "After all, you've got plenty of practice with this, don't you, Balto?" she asked, giving her mate a nuzzle. He'd had tons of pictures taken of him for saving Nome. She knew he wasn't exactly a fan of it, but he still had plenty of experience when it came to that.

Rosie looked over to the two other humans. "Is that all?" she called, wanting to check to see if another picture was in order of if they were done. It was pretty exciting though. She and her family HAD done an interview with a magazine after the sirum run, as Rosie was close to Balto, the hero of the story, but Rosie didn't know if the photographer would take more than one picture or not, sometimes they did.

Dusty looked to be as surprised by the powerful luminescence of the camera’s flash as Kodi did. As the ghost image of the camera quickly seceded, he saw Dusty’s face becoming clearer and clearer in front of him.

“I guess it went alright. I mean, nothing went wrong, did it?” He asked meekly. That was the first time his picture had been taken by an out of towner before, with the team actively prepared unlike the haphazard mail run photos from the local paper, the Nome Nugget. He had no real previous experience to compare as to whether or not it was a rousing success or a failure.

He shook his head, the reverberating image all but gone. He was overthinking it, and his doubts didn’t go unnoticed by Kirby, who was reveling in the moment.

“Lighten up, Kodi! We finally get recognized for our hard work, and you still try to find a way to dampen the mood.” Kirby chided him, acting as though Kodi’s inherent self-doubt was a conscious choice. “All of us looked our best, even Ralph! That boot not bothering you anymore, is it?” He questioned his friend’s sudden boldness.

Ralph stoically shook his head. “Nu-uh. If anyone notices it, they’ll just know that our master knows how to take care of us.” He replied triumphantly.

Kirby smirked, and reiterated to Kodi “Even Ralph…”

Kodi rolled his eyes. He was just as happy as the rest of them about being photographed, especially with that poignancy between Dusty and him coming to light. He always tended to second guess himself.

Balto noticed the teasing and his son’s discomfort, and answered the question his mate presented while doing his best to keep everything pleasant between the remainder of the dogs. “Jenna’s right, everyone. I’ve been photographed several times, and things couldn’t have gone better. When you get a dog as rambunctious as Kirby, it’s a small miracle to get everyone to stand still for it.” He name dropped the other two, his own form of countering the teasing directed to his boy. Kirby didn’t know when to quit sometimes.

Knowing that his own son wasn’t the only one who was expressing nervousness, Balto took no time in addressing Fang’s concerns.

“You did just fine, Fang.” Balto said with the reassurances he would endeavor to his bestow to his own pups. “Really.” He urged as Fang continued to appear dismayed. Balto couldn’t help but notice how Fang’s quick bit of grooming had made a marked difference in the areas he had had touched on for the better. He couldn’t remember the last time he himself had had a proper bath, but it probably wouldn’t compare to how long since Fang’s, if Fang had even taken one.

Rushing to Balto’s aid, Kodi did his best to uplift him. “Yup! Just wait until the picture shows up before you start worrying.” It was a bit hypocritical of him, all things considered, but the best way to learn was to teach. “I just wonder when it will be in the papers? Or if we’ll get to see it?” It wasn’t standard practice to show dogs the newspapers after all.

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“Hold on…” Mr. Elswit expelled as he checked the film in the roll. He wasn’t going to remove it from the camera, but he wanted to make sure the picture was recorded. He could see the outline of the group on the large square in front of him; it worked! “Yes! You’re all done! Great job everyone!” He shouted to the girl and the dogs. He closed the camera, and began to disassemble it, knowing he would be putting it back together when he made his way to the church at long last.

Mr. Simpson stepped alongside the dogs, who seemed to know that the photo op had finished, and resumed communicating among themselves. “So, when will we being seeing these?” He asked the photographer as me made his way over to him to help, watching Mr. Elswit struggle with tucking the leg of the camera in.

Elswit stepped aside, allowing the experienced musher to push the stubborn leg in place. He had been meaning to buy a new stand, but he adamantly refused to spend more until he absolutely needed to. As simple a contraption as a camera tripod seemed to be, they could be pretty pricey when the local townsfolk knew how important they were. As Mr. Simpson grunted and the leg locked into its collapsible position, he offered his best estimate as to when the article would be showing up.

“Well, the Sportsman – that’s where I work, the Alaska Sportsman – won’t be getting these until I get back. I’m planning on holding here until around the middle of January, so AT least until then.”

Mr. Simpson nodded his head tentatively, holding the tripod out to the photographer. “Did you need help hauling this to the church?” He asked him. “The roads can be unfriendly to heavy equipment and the inexperienced.”

Elswit was secretly grateful he had been offered it, because he would have felt ashamed if he had asked for further assistance on his own accord. “If you don’t mind? That’d be most appreciated.” He stowed the camera and stand in the case with precision, a habit formed from repetition, and snapped the top of the wooden carrier shut.

“Well, alright! Let me see that… Oof!” Mr. Simpson was strong, but even the heavy duty protective casing was a challenge. As the two conversed and made their way to the chapel, the large bell in the tower obscuring the sun’s descent, the dogs were left on their own, presumably free to go about their business.