Deshka River, West of Willow, Alaska, April, 1924.

After the terrible storm had passed, the strange man continued to care for the smoky blue husky dog. It took a while for Balto to get back on his paws, especially mentally, but as the days went by he grew stronger, and his wounds closed up. He desperately missed his fox friend, and his old home, but as time went on the reality he’d realized had gradually become easier to process and accept.

During the nights of his healing, he’d often hear the haunting howls of the wolf pack a distance away. It might have sounded enjoyable to him before the incident, but ever since Frostpaw’s death he’d hated wolves. It bothered him especially because the howls belonged to his killers, no doubt. The souls behind the howls also likely were responsible for his injuries.

It wasn’t easy in the slightest but, in the twinkling dawn of April, Balto decided that it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself. He moved around freely in the snow-filled encampment; these wild people had shown him great kindness in tending to him in both body and mind, and he would be forever in their debt. The man that had rescued him remained close at heart, bonding with him; Balto learned that the man was called Siku, and so he was forever engraved in the mind of the dog with that name.

The brave husky took a deep breath when he reached the top of a hill, overlooking the magnificent white landscape of crisp mountains and untamed woodland underneath the clear blue sky. He would see just how well he could settle into his new life in the far north. Something that had Balto worried was the sight of sled dogs, because it reminded him of the kennel he’d been trapped in before Frostpaw set him free. He trusted the people here, but was quite apprehensive of the equipment; he did not want to be mistreated.

It was a fear of the past, dreading the things that were and thinking that they would be once again. Irrational given his knowledge and experience with the wildfolk, but still a stressor in his mind nonetheless. He veered far away from the sledding side of things, as much as was possible anyway.

No, the sled was not for him; Balto wanted nothing more than to settle down and be a companion to someone. He already was that for the man who’d saved his life, and was alright with the idea of things staying that way.

Behind him he heard a drawn out whistling sound, jolting him out of his introspective pondering. It was Siku.

“Sunnguvuk!” Siku called out, to which Balto responded by running down the slushy hill to jump up into his arms. Ah, yes, that was the new way he was being referred to… ‘Balto’ was no more, at least not here, not as far as the wild man was concerned. According to their language, his new name meant ‘becomes strong’, which was most certainly fitting for the circumstance he’d been found and for his recovery.

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“Hello, friend,” Siku smiled, his brown hair waving in the light breeze as he crouched down to hug the husky, running his fingers through his soft dark fur. “I’ve got something to show you. Come!”

Balto followed his master through the peaceful encampment, spotting children playing and women enjoying their day working on projects. Siku made his way into his tent home, and picked up a large rugged bow from atop a wooden crate.

‘What… is that?’ the smoky blue dog tilted his head after sniffing the strange curved object.

“Do you like it?” the wild man asked, inspecting it closely. “I purchased this bow from a shop in Willow up the river. I will be taking it hunting today, and I’m sure a young buck like you would love to join me. Isn’t that right, Sunnguvuk?”

Balto had seen the other dogs around camp hunt deer and small animals, and in passing conversation they had told him all about it. He couldn’t say he had any real friends, but he certainly was in touch with those who looked out for him as if he were their own. From them, he had begun to learn essential survival skills. Now Siku wanted to take him out on a hunting trip, and he felt mildly confident he would do it well.

It had become quite warm for winter; the temperatures were bearable, especially for Balto with his thick smoky blue coat. His master even seemed more comfortable than other days. It made for a perfect hunting trip, as they trudged through the tall, crunchy snow. It had snowed a lot.

Balto trotted ahead of Siku, keeping his ears up and alert for prey. He wanted to do good, he wanted to impress. It was his shot at making a new life for himself out here. It was not his first choice, but so far he had to admit that he wasn’t hating it. It was very free in these wild, untamed lands. Danger lurked around every corner, but even a domestic dog like him understood the benefits of being part of a pack. The ancient wolf in him, carried in his blood, shouted it aloud.

‘Ugh… wolves,’ the husky felt disgust come over him. Frostpaw had been killed by an encounter with a wolf pack, and he would not so easily forgive. He couldn’t keep his mind on that right now, though, so he pushed it to the back of his head.

As soon as he had done so, his big ears were almost grabbed and forced to point at the source of a noise; a twig had snapped, and Balto looked intently in that direction, at his flank. It happened almost too quickly for him to react; a large, emaciated bear with light brown fur charged him and Siku from the cold underbrush, roaring madly.

Balto yelped, and an electrifying fear coursed through his skin, nerves, and all in his mouth. He jumped out of the way, dodging the beast, but stumbling onto the snow. Siku acted quickly and shot the bear square in the neck, missing the head. This shocked the bear for a moment, and in that time Balto felt a warmth on his arm.

He looked down to see his crimson red blood pooling around him in the snow, oozing from a deep scratch that he hadn’t even noticed. The bear had gotten him as he moved to get out of the way, and… he had not felt it. How?

It was likely due to the adrenaline amassing in his body, a truly strange sensation but one he had felt before. He recalled the time he’d defended his previous owner from bad men, leading to his capture. A similar feeling had swelled within him then.

The husky did not know what to do, and so remained frozen as the bear made its way, menacingly, to his human. Siku held up his bow and shot another arrow, this one piercing the bear’s snout.