Real Hero's wear Dog Tags, not Championship Collars – Re-written

Chapter 1:

As the Second World War continues to rage on in Europe, in the Alaskan town of Nome, it was becoming increasingly apparent the America knew that it couldn't continue to be neutral in the War for much longer. But the townspeople tried to get on with their daily business, while tuning in on to get any updates on the War via radio.

On a long abandoned fishing boat just beyond the border of Nome, a canine started to wake from his slumber: this was Balto, a wolf/dog that had little memory of his younger life, and was constantly neglected by the dogs and the people of Nome just for his wolf side. True, Balto had never actually hurt anyone, but the people still feared him and they always threatened him with guns and knives. But, Balto had to go into town: it was his only source of food.

Yawning loudly, which almost sounded like a howl, Balto shook off his tattered and worn blanket and started to walk down the plank that leaned on the side of his boat, but was stopped by a voice. "And just vhere to you think you're going?" asked a thick Russian accent. Chuckling and shaking his head, Balto replied, "Clam down, Borris: I'm get going to get something to eat." Borris, who was a goose, had found Balto when he was young and had been like a father to him ever since. Turning around, Balto saw Borris wore a worried/annoyed look playing across his face.

"Just remember to stay of the townspeople's: and don't forget to look out for Steele, or any of his goons." Balto mentally cringed at the mention of that name: Steele, a pure-breed Siberian Husky had been tormenting Balto ever since he had first stepped into Nome: he had received many a bit, scratch and broken bones for that one dog, and all because he was part wild animal. Sighing, Balto replied, "I'll keep that in mind: see ya later." And with that, the wolf/dog jumped off the boat, landed softly on the snowy beach, and started to make his was towards Nome, hoping there would be some good meat outside of the Butchers shop.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Nome, another canine was waking up from a dreamless sleep: this one, however, was a pure bred Husky. The Huskies fur was brick red on the top, and it stopped at the top of her head, and the rest of her was covered by the palest cream you could imagine; her neck, however, was covered by a dim orange bandana. The Huskies name was Jenna, and as she woke up, an American voice came from the radio, to give the daily report on the War. "Hitler continued to bomb the English capital, London, it an attempt to crushed British resistance...President Roosevelt insists on staying out of this...raging War, but...but how long can America remain a neutral country in this apparent never-ending War?" asked the man on the radio, tiredness evident in his tone.

Sighing angrily, Jenna's owner, a woman named Caroline, said, "I've heard enough of this," and switched off the radio. "Oh, I hope that horrible War stops soon," said Caroline's young daughter, Rosie, said to her parents. Sighing, Jenna thought, I've heard enough of this human War, and got up and walked out of the house. Since she had nothing else to do, Jenna made her way towards the abandoned Workhouse: the place for dogs them to hang out and talk to each other. On the way there, Jenna ran into two friends of hers: Dixie, a Pomeranian, and Sylvie, an Afghan Hound.

"Hey there, Jenna," the two said in unison, to which Jenna replied grimly, "Hey, girls." Curious about their friends tone, Dixie asked, "What's wrong Jenna?" Sighing, Jenna said, "Have you heard the radio talking about that War? It's horrible!" Nodding her head, Sylvie replied, "I heard my humans talking about it: it sounded terrible." Jenna was about to say something else, but there conversation was cut short by a man's angry shouts. Turning around, the saw a brown blur running away from the Butcher. "And stay away from here, you useless mutt!" shouted the Butcher, waving his meat clever angrily at Balto. Once Balto had stopped to catch his breath, Jenna saw that he managed to grab a medium sized scrap and was about to rip some off when a great mass of black and white fur stood in front of him.

"Get out of here, half-breed, before I make you," growled the husky, baring his teeth at Balto. Scared out of his wit, Balto ran around the husky and ran as fast as he could towards the outskirts and to his boat. "Steele!" shouted Jenna, walking up to said Husky, "why are you so cruel to Balto?" Steele turned to face Jenna, and replied, "Because, dear Jenna, Balto is a wild animal." Disgusted, Jenna said, "So what? Balto still has Husky blood inside him!"

"That doesn't matter Jenna," interrupted Dixie, stopping momentarily to flash her eyes at Steele, "Balto's still a wild animal: who knows what he can do to us?" Steele smiled menacingly, and said, "Exactly, Dixie," to which Dixie's body shook and fell onto the ground, her tongue flopping out of her mouth. "Besides, don't you remember when he attacked me that one night?" Jenna sighed: she remembered. Balto, apparently, went berserk and attacked Steele, leaving him severely scarred and with a broken leg. But Jenna knew that Steele had started by insulting Balto's mother. "That was because you insulted him!"

Steele chuckled, and said, "And your point is?" Jenna, completely disgusted, said, "You treat him like he's the lowest form of life on the Earth!" But Steele replied, "That's only because he IS the lowest form of life on Earth." He gave a Jenna one final smile, and he walked away towards his house. "Jenna," started Sylvie, "do you have a thing for Balto?" Shaking her head, Jenna replied, "No...it's just that...I don't think it's right to pick on him, just because he's part wolf!" She then looked at the other two with pity in her eyes, "and if you two had hearts, you would know too." And with that, she walked home.

Meanwhile, Balto, who had been forced to drop his find so he could get away quicker, was walking back to his boat, thinking about what had just happened. Why is Steele like this? I HATE him! He thought, as he walked up the plank of his boat. "Didn't I warn you to stay away from him?" asked Borris, folding his wings in front of his body. "It's not my fault, Borris! He started first!" shouted Balto, and he stopped to calm himself down. "What can I do to prove to everyone that I'm not dangerous?" he asked. Sighing, Borris walked up to Balto and lifted his head up with his wing. "The answer will come in time, boy chick: the answer will come in time." Sighing, Balto walked up to his blanket and lifted it up and over him, and let sleep overcame him.

At the same time, Steele was at his house, along with three other dogs: one was covered in brown fur; the second one was covered in a tanned colour, and the third was covered in grey fur. "Hey, good job, boss! You're the wittiest, the smartest, the most hilarious..." the tan chinnok named Kaltag tried to say, but was interrupted by the grey furred husky called Star shouted, "You're the best!" Once he had said that, Kaltag smacked him on the head: he found it SO annoying when Star finished his sentences. "So boss: do youse think that half-breed gonna come back?" asked the brown furred Husky called Nikki.

"I hope he does: I could do with a little sport," Steele growled, flexing his claws and flashing his teeth, causing the others to laugh hysterically. Nikki looked out the window, and saw that it was starting to get darker. "Oh, it's getting darker: I better get home," said Nikki, and he, along with Kaltag and Star, bid goodbye to Steele. Just before he fell asleep, his eyes flashed at the calendar, and it read:

December 6th, 1941