Chapter 1

(Ha, I was able to stay away from this for all of five hours. Although not necessary, I suggest that if you haven't, to read my other story, 'Balto: Beginnings' first. This is a sequel to that. R&R please, hope y'all enjoy it.)

It only reinforced his belief that everyone in the world hated him as four month old Balto was chased away from yet another wolf pack, a few new bites and scratches added to his already quite extensive collection. He ran away as fast as he could, laughter echoing after him. He'd learned at only a month the difference between a dog and a wolf, and that he was both. After his mother had left him, he'd wandered around for a few days before being found by a human. He'd then been taken to the same village that, unbeknownst to him, was the same village where his parents had met.

There he'd been allowed to join in with another family of dogs, who'd fed him and allowed him to grow with their pups. The mother had not the heart to tell him about his difference, and it was only after others began abusing him because of said difference that she told him why. Balto had quickly learned that dogs didn't want him, so he'd abandoned that village as soon as he was old enough to go out alone. Then he'd searched for a wolf pack. He'd found a few, but the result was always the same. His usually being abused and then chased away.

When Balto was sure he'd run far enough, he stopped and crawled underneath an evergreen tree. He had no idea where to go, or even what to do. He was a horrible hunter, and hadn't eaten for a few days at least. If starvation didn't kill him soon, then a wolf or dog surely would. Balto rested a few minutes, regaining his breath, before pushing himself up and continuing on. What for, he had no idea, but there had to be someone out there that cared for him. And as little of a chance there was, he also held on to the hope that he might happen across or be found by his mother or father.

Balto still had no idea why they'd left him; he was too young to remember much else besides his parents' gentle care for him. He knew that they'd loved him, so why had they left him? Often times they were what he blamed, for if they hadn't left him he'd be safe right now. Had they really hated him? Balto knew that it was unfair to blame his parents though, he knew deep down that it'd been because of something beyond their control that they'd been forced to give him up, and because of this he was a lot more knowledgeable in the cruelties of the world than any pup his age. Often times thinking like this was the only thing that got him through, if only so he could grow up some day and say to the world, 'Ha, despite all of you laughing in my face, I still managed to grow up.'

Anymore though, even that was failing to help him. What was the point of living if no one was there to care for you? Might as well die, he'd thought, maybe that's the best way for me to help this world. More than a few times the thought of suicide had crossed Balto's young mind, and it was at times like these, just after being chased away from yet another potential home, that the prospect of it and its benefits weighed strongly on his mind. What he always told himself, and what he told himself this time, was that if there was a place out there, somewhere he could be accepted, then he'd be missing out on it, betraying it if you will.

Balto repeated these thoughts in his head a few times before standing up again, determined to find somewhere he would be accepted. It was very possible he was standing on his last legs though, as if he didn't find food soon he'd be in some serious trouble. Balto stood up, choosing a direction at random and started off towards it, and hopefully towards that place where he'd be accepted.