Welcome to Nome
Warm afternoon sunlight filtered through an old windowpane, dust motes circling in its lazy beams. The abandoned room was partially wrecked, with torn wooden planks in the walls and a shattered glass bottle on the floor. The place had a musty smell to it, the wood that comprised its structure starting to mildew in the early spring air. But one corner of the room was different.
The corner's flooring was more intact than the rest of the room; its walls still wore remnants of frayed wallpaper. The air was warmer there, powered by the sunlight from the window, and the musty scent was a little less overwhelming. Various scraps of cloth were piled carefully in a ragged basket.
And from within the basket, something moved.
A quiet footfall fell on the floorboards, a small layer of dust flying into the air from the action. White feathers fairly glowed in the sunlight. Curious, dark eyes searched the basket, trying to see past the rags that were wrapped around the basket's bundle. One wing stretched out slowly, each individual shaft stretching in the light. With a few silent movements, the rags were moved aside, and the mysterious bundle revealed.
Within the basket was a tiny, brown puppy. The little one stretched, the pink pads on his paws scraping against the curving walls of the basket. A tuft of fur stuck up on his head as he yawned, showing his baby teeth. Little baby eyes stretched wide to blink at their surroundings, and they came to rest on a certain goose standing in front of them.
Boris couldn't help but smile at the little tyke. The pup couldn't be very old, if size was any judge, and he was all alone in this big icy place. Boris had witnessed a dark-furred husky drop off the basket and then leave, ducking his head to keep from being seen. On the way out, several other huskies had ganged up on him, taunting him because of his apparently well-known affair with, of all things, a white wolf.
Boris had watched him go. He had seen the hurt in the dog's eyes, even from a distance. It was hard to miss. The husky was clearly desperate and, for whatever reason, looked ragged and worn. Perhaps he hadn't been able to care for his pup any better than himself, who knew. But he'd left him here, and he hadn't left a trail back. It seemed like he had taken a risky chance and gambled on the pup's life being better found by someone in town than out on the open Arctic plain. It must've been the only thought that made it through his poor, disheveled head.
Well, he might be a goose, but Boris wasn't about to let that husky's sacrifice go to waste.
He looked down at the little pup, who now tottered on his back legs to give the goose a quick puppy lick to the beak.
"Welcome to Nome, Balto."
Hi, dear reader! I hope you enjoyed this cute little piece, and I hope you leave a review, too! (Yeah, that's a hint. Like a really big hint.)
This story is dedicated to Agt.007.1, a guest that faithfully reviewed my other Balto fanfic (my first one ever in the Balto universe, to boot) and encouraged me to write more, along with being incredibly patient with my slow updates. Thank you so much for everything!