Balto’s whimpers pierced the thick milky fog. He was alone. Balto nudged his mother’s silvery white fur once more. It was soaked in her blood. Balto hid his small, trembling body under his mother’s, and fell into an uneasy sleep. The moon was rising, it was getting very cold.

As the pup woke up, he just laid there with his eyes closed, enjoying the sunlight. Suddenly a feeling of dread came over him. Balto opened his eyes and saw his mother’s limp body, covered in brown stripes of dried blood.

“Mom?…” Balto whispered hoarsely. He nudged her again.

He cried in despair as no answer came. Balto was cold, hungry and alone. Suddenly a shadow came over him. Terrified, Balto buried himself in his mother’s rich fur.

Boris was walking along the shore of the lake, watching his migrating friends with longing eyes. The leaves were already dying and falling, and everyone was in a hurry to get to warmer places. Not that Boris, the Russian Snow Goose, was afraid of the cold. He just didn’t want to spend yet another winter alone, in the old, creaking boat… Boris sighed, and went for his usual walk, nudging at the ground here and there in hopes of finding a tasty nut or a dried berry.

As Boris walked into the woods, he jumped back in terror. He recovered quite easily, though. A large, beautiful shape of a white wolf was lying on the dead grass. Boris shook his head regretfully. Oh, those damned humans, always killing. Boris edged towards the white creature. He stroked her fur gently, then continued on his way.

When Boris was near the boat, he suddenly heard a faint whimper behind him. He turned around, but no one was there. Boris flapped his wings ferociously, honking, trying to scare that someone away. Boris listened to the scared silence, satisfied, and continued on his way. Suddenly there was a rustle of leaves and another terrified, hoarse whimper. Boris spun around, and saw two big, scared, yellow eyes looking back at him from under the bush. Boris lifted the twigs, and saw a gray, shaking fluff of fur.

“Hey, little guy,” Boris said gently. He reached out his wing and gave the pup a pat. Balto snapped at him, petrified, not knowing what else to do. Boris chuckled gently.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured the pup. “What’s your name?”

“Balto,” squeaked the cub. He was warming up a bit to the strange winged creature. He understood it wasn’t about to eat him.

“Hey, Balto. I’m sorry, but you have to find your mom - I can’t keep you or take care of you,” Boris said sadly. “As much as I want to, people don’t trust wolves. They are going to kill you if they see you.”

Balto whimpered again. “My mom is not moving… I don’t know what happened.”

Oh, so this is that wolf’s cub finally understood Boris. Sadness and pity shot though him.

“Look at you, you’re shaking. Let’s get you inside, then I’ll think about what to do with you. You hungry?”

Balto nodded shyly.

“Well, I might be able to get you some sausages at the butcher’s. C’mon, we better get going. It’s getting dark.”

Balto nodded again, and trotted after the goose, his tail tucked between his legs. After a while, Balto stopped and looked back at the shining body of his mother. Pain clouded his mind with such intensity he almost fell to the ground. He remembered how she fought the hunters, trying to lead them away from where he was hiding. He remembered how his mother covered him with her body, yelping each time a bullet pierced her flesh. Balto sat down and let go all his pain in his first howl.

Boris turned around. He waited patiently for Balto to spill out everything, then wrapped his soft wing around him.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

Balto stretched out on the warm wooden floor, covered in a brownish fuzzy blanket, with a blue can filled with water by his side and a fat, tasty sausage in his mouth. Boris did a little Russian dance for him, which made him feel so much better. With his new-found guardian Boris sleeping right next to him, well-fed and warm… For the first time in a long time, Balto felt happy. His tail wagged weakly under the blanket. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off in a cloud of dreams.

…It started to rain. The drops never reached Balto and Boris though. The heavy cold drops disappeared in a thick, milky fog which was surrounding them, and never came out of the other side…

In his dreams, Balto was sleeping by his mother… He buried his snout in her rich fur.

“Why are you not with me?”

“I am. I always will be. And I will be with your children and with their children. Never feel alone. Remember… I am there.”

…Balto turned in his sleep. For a second, if someone was watching, they would’ve seen a silvery white wolf laying by his side…