Chapter I
Balto's boy
"What's its breed?"
I've heard that question enough times that I know the answer before it comes.
"It's a mutt." James says.
"He's a husky mix." My boy adds after his father, like he always does when James calls me a mutt. I remember I used to wonder why they always lied about what I really am, but then I found that people would be afraid of me if they knew I'm part wolf.
But not my boy. Not my Charlie.
I feel a thug on my leash as he pulls me closer to him until my cheek is pressed against his leg and it is a little uncomfortable, but I don't care. I'm worried about him. He only keeps me this close when he's nervous.
"Alright," The woman who asked what my breed is continues after checking on a long list, "He can travel with you. But he's a big dog. Please make sure to keep him on the leash."
He seems relived, letting my leash go loose. "Thank you."
Charlie begins walking, and I make sure to stay by his side all the way through. We follow James through hallways and crowds of people, with lots of children around us. Some of them are leaking water through their eyes, which is a weird thing humans do to express their sadness. I can smell coal, and the ear-piercing sound of trains has no end.
James sits down on a bench, and Charlie sits down by his side, but as far away as he can from his father, and I sit over Charlie's feet. It always makes him smile. But not this time.
I look up at him, and he seems to be distracted, fidgeting with the important papers he's holding. James looks down at me, and then he becomes mad. He doesn't like me.
I don't like him either. Neither does Charlie.
"I can't believe you're taking him, Charles," James seems to do the human-equivalent of growling. I noticed he's the only one who calls Charlie 'Charles'.
Charlie looks at him with a scowl and then he finally looks at me. My heart skips a beat when my boy finally acknowledges me again, running his hand through the tuft of fur on my head. He doesn't answer his father, and for that, I'm glad. I know Charlie is nervous, and James makes that worse.
"Make sure he doesn't make a mess. Keep him on a leash all the time. Your grandfather won't be pleased if he kills his chickens," James sounds menacing when he talks, "And feed him properly."
Silence follows.
"And Charles," James calls again, and I watch it as Charlie's eyes move away from me and toward him, "Be a brave man."
James stands up and walks away from us, leaving us alone. Charlie pets the now empty space beside him on the bench. I wag my tail before jumping up according to his hint, and I expect him to be relieved that his father is gone, but instead, Charlie's eyes seem about to leak.
He engulfs me in a hug, pulling me close by the neck and burying his face in my neck fur.
These last few weeks have been weird.
It all began when Charlie stopped going to school, and stopped taking me for walks. He stopped smiling, and then he began putting all his stuff in the brown bag he uses when we go for a walk in the woods, but this time, he wasn't happy. I didn't understand it, Charlie likes to walk in the woods with me, he should have been happy.
But the more time passed, the surer I was we were not going for a walk in the woods.
And then this morning, we woke up before the sun had even risen, and James brought us here.
I feel Charlie's arms slowly letting me go, but I keep close to him. The sun has only just risen, and the streets of London were already busy. They have been busy for a while now.
I lick Charlie's face, and he looks at me with a small smile, but it goes away and he frowns again.
"Good boy, Balto, good boy." He pets me, but I can't help folding me ears back and tilting my head.
"Come on," He calls, and I promptly jump down from the bench. Charlie picks up his bag from the floor where he'd left it and we begin walking.
I follow him towards the stores in the train station while I look around, sniffing and hearing my surroundings while we make our way. Mostly women and children surround us, and the few men wear the same clothes that James was wearing before he left: dark green and weird hats.
Charlie stops walking and pulls my leash so that I stop as well. He ties me to a bench and tells me to be good as he walks into a store. I turn my attention to a man in the green clothes who is hugging a young boy. They're both crying as the man walks away.
Most of us dogs, or wolves for that matter, never have contact with their fatherly figure. My mother was a white wolf, whom I last saw when I had just opened my eyes. And then, I saw Charlie, still a human pup at the time.
Because of James, I thought human fathers were like dogs': they didn't care for their offspring. But little time living among humans showed me that it was just James. The boy and the man who just said their goodbyes still leaked water from their eyes, but neither James nor Charlie did it as they parted.
"Balto!" I turn my head when I hear my boy's voice calling me, and as always, my tail wags and I jump up in hopes to give him a hug, but my leash keeps me down. Still, I wag my tail happily as he approaches me, crouching down and leaving a bowl on the floor.
My nose picks up a warm, nice smell. I look down and see that he brought me human food leftovers, and I gladly eat it. Charlie sits down in the bench I'm tied to and begins eating his own food, eventually reaching down to pet me. I look up at him from time to time to make sure he's alright.
We eat our meals in silence, and once he's done, I lick his hands that smell of food. He giggles at that, calling me a silly dog, and I'm glad he's smiling again.
I love my boy.
A man yells some sort of call, and Charlie stands up.
We walk toward a train and get in a line. I get some dirty looks from people around us, and some even seem scared of me; but everyone is fidgety and they seem worried and sad, like Charlie is.
Once we get to the beginning of the line, the woman who asked for my breed earlier asks Charlie to hand her the papers he's been holding, and once he does, we get into the train.
I don't like trains, at all. They're shaky, and there isn't much space to run and I must hold it in if I need to go to the bathroom. We've only been in one travel before, and it was enough for me to decide I don't like trains.
We walk in and walk through hallways before we get into a small cabin. Charlie lets go of my leash and I sit down as he puts his bag in the shelf above our heads and then sits down. He shakes his fingers to call me, and I approach him. I think of jumping up to lay beside him, but then I remember that the last time I did that ended up with James yelling at me because dogs shouldn't be in trains, let alone on the seats. So, I just lay down over Charlie's feet again. James is not here, but I decide not to take any chances.
I don't like it when people yell at my boy.
Charlie puts his hands on either side of my face and ruffles it as he looks out the window.
His eyes are leaking again.
I don't know where we're going to, and I don't like this at all. And I feel like he doesn't either. But if he's going, I'm going with him.
I had this idea a while ago, and decided to try it out today. Hope you liked it! Not sure if I'll continue it, but I do hope so.
