I co-authored this with my friend Kelev awhile back. It's the back story to my first and still most successful endeavor in internet fanfiction, the Toby Series. Parts in bold text are my writing, normal text is hers. First part's all mine.

The sled dogs' feet pounded against the snow as they rounded the corner. Their breath was blasting out of their mouths like smoke trailing from a flight of dragons. At their head was a strong purebred husky named Yukon, a dog as wild and strong as his name suggested. He was 'Yuke' to his friends, of which he had many.

There was only one team ahead of them- the reigning champions. Their lead dog was Kodi, son of the famous Balto himself. But Yuke wasn't concerned about bloodlines. Kodi's team had been leading from the start, and it didn't take an expert to see they were getting tired. "Come on!" He hollered to his team. "Let's show these guys a real sled team!" He drew back his head and snapped it forward like a rock from a catapult, throwing his full weight against the harness.

The finish line was approaching, but Yuke and his team rapidly narrowed the gap between them and their competitors. Now they were only behind by three yards, two yards, one, and then Yuke and Kodi were neck to neck. Yuke spared one look out of the corner of his eye at the younger dog and then burst ahead, streaking for the finish line.

"Go, Yuke!" cheered the voice of his owner from the sidelines.

"You can do it, honey!" came a bark that always made Yuke's heart race.

Without breaking his stride, he glanced toward the sideline and saw his master, Alicia Day, shouting and cheering his name. Next to her, wild with excitement was Alicia's other dog, Terry.

His eyes brightened. "Hey Terry…!" he called, but then his paw struck a rock hidden under the snow. With a cry, he tumbled head over tail and did a face-plant in the snow. His team tried to stop, but they tripped over him and the race ended in a massive pileup.

The other team's musher pulled his team to a halt and jumped off his sled. As the dogs from the other team stared, the two men worked fervently to untangle the dogs. Terry broke free of her leash and rushed to the scene of the crash, quickly followed by Alicia.

At first it seemed they would be all right. The first six dogs to be pulled off the heap were frightened and in most cases bruised, but otherwise unhurt. Then it was found that two of the three dogs remaining had broken legs and were in excruciating pain.

The last dog was Yuke, who looked to be unconscious but uninjured. Terry nosed her mate anxiously. "Yuke?" she pleaded. "Please, honey, get up."

But there was no answer. Terry sniffed, blinked away a tear, and then threw back her head and let out a mournful howl. Every dog and human present knew or guessed the meaning of the sound, and an examination by Yuke's musher confirmed it. Yuke's neck was broken. He had been killed instantly.

The race went to the champions, although both the judges and the winning musher agreed it was only fair to give Yuke's musher the prize money and recognition. They gave the golden collar to Yuke posthumously, hoping in some way to ease the loss felt by Terry and Alicia.

It did little to help. Alicia cried for half an hour. Terry mourned for days. The only time she spoke to anyone was when her son Pete came to visit the day after the accident.

"Mom!" he called as he came in the door. "Dad!"

Terry, who was crying in a far corner of the house, lifted her head. "In here," she managed to choke.

Pete followed her voice and came in. "I just had the craziest dream," he was saying. "I dreamed I was watching Dad in a race, and he…" he stopped and stared at his mother's tear-soaked face. "Mom, what's wrong?" Then with a start, he looked around. "Where's Dad?"

Terry dropped her head to the floor. "Pete, it wasn't a dream. Yuke…"

Pete's eyes grew wide as he stared at her. "No," he said slowly. "You're tricking me."

"I'm not, Pete." Terry lifted her eyes to the mantle for a moment before her head fell again. "Look up there."

Pete looked where Terry had looked, and there he saw Yuke's collar. Alicia had hung it on the wall to remember him by it. "No," he gasped. "Mom, stop it! This is some kind of joke, it has to be. Dad can't be dead!"

"He is, Pete." Terry sniffled and turned away.

"But why? How?"

"He… he was looking at me when it happened," she said slowly. "It's my fault."

"What?" asked Pete, horrified. "You mean…?"

Terry couldn't take it any more. "Please, just let me be alone."

Pete was still dazed from the hammer blow of his father's death, so he dimly nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "Okay."

Terry turned to look at him as he walked out, and for a moment she had to force herself to do so. 'He looks so much like him,' she thought to herself. "Pete," she called weakly.

Pete looked back at her. "Yeah?"

"Tell your brothers and sisters not to come here, please." she requested. "I… I don't think I could handle someone bringing it up again."

Pete reluctantly nodded. It was a hard thing for her to ask of him, but he knew she must be hurting right now more than he could ever know. "Okay," he agreed. And he left.

Alicia came into the room and saw Terry laying on the floor. "Oh, Terry," she said soothingly as she bent down and stroked her head, "I know you miss him. But you'll get over it. You just need some time, that's all."

In spite of Alicia's promise, time didn't help. Losing a mate would be hard for any dog, but it was harder still for Terry because she and Yuke had lived in the same home for years. This meant that everywhere she looked, she saw reminders of him. There was the spot where his food and water dishes had sat next to hers. There was the window where they had sat together. Even when she closed her eyes, she could smell him as if his ghost lingered in the air.

Even finding a place to sleep was an ordeal. She tried laying down in the basket, but discovered that where Yuke had once taken half the space, now there was an empty gap that made it impossible to sleep.

After staring at the empty basket for a while, she remembered the basket in the closet. She never shared that with him. But when she had dragged it out and laid down, she remembered that the reason she had never shared it with him was because there had never been room. It was the basket she had used when she was raising their puppies. His puppies.

"So much for that," she groaned, walking over to the carpet where the fire still burned. But as she lay there, she found her eyes drawn to the mantle where Yuke's collar hung. Alicia had put it there to remember him, but all Terry wanted was to forget.

Finally, Terry walked into Alicia's bedroom and climbed up on the bed.

"Who's there?!" asked Alicia before she realized her mistake. "Oh, Terry." She yawned and reached out a hand to pat her husky on the head. "You OK, girl?"

Terry whined and buried her nose in the blankets.

"Aww," cooed Alicia, stroking her head. "You miss Yuke, don't you?"

Terry laid her head down.

"Alright," agreed Alicia. "You can sleep on the bed."

Terry crawled up next to Alicia's head and lay down on top of the covers.

"It's okay, girl," Alicia promised as they drifted off to sleep. "You'll get over it."

But days passed, and Terry's sense of guilt did not heal. Instead it grew and spread like an infection. Everywhere she looked she saw reminders of Yuke. His face seemed to haunt her everywhere- the grain of the wood in the walls, the frost on the windows, even the ripples in her water dish took on his image. At night she couldn't sleep because of her recurring dreams of the crash. She couldn't bring herself to eat, and only when her thirst became a raging inferno could she bring herself to drink. Even then she had to do it with her eyes closed to avoid looking at the ripples, although one might very well ask if this was any help with the images that flashed in her view behind her eyelids. One day she went out to his grave to be alone.

"Yuke," she said as if he could hear her, "I miss you. It's my fault you died. If you had been watching the track instead of me, you'd still be here." Fresh tears began to well in her eyes as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Yukon," she sobbed. "I can't stop thinking about you, and I just want you back."

But the frozen ground gave no answer, and she knew it never would. With a lead heart, she turned and went back inside.

That night her dream was different. It went through the usual accident scene and faded to blackness as always. But then as she wept, a voice came to her ears. It echoed as if from a distance, and yet somehow it sounded close. "Terry?" it asked.

Terry blinked away her tears and saw Yukon's concerned face before her. " Yukon?" she asked in confusion. "But you're dead!"

He laughed. "Dead?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"

Suddenly Terry found that they were standing in the room where she had fallen asleep. She closed her eyes tight and counted to ten, but when she awoke it was all still there. The bare spot on the wall with no collar, the water and food dishes beside her own; but most importantly Yuke right in front of her like a beacon of hope. "Was it all a dream?" she asked, not sure if she could believe her eyes.

"Of course it was," he replied, nuzzling her. "I don't know what it was about, but it's OK now."

Terry drew back, smiled, and leaned forward to kiss him. But when her face went right through him, she woke up screaming.

"Terry?" asked Alicia, awakened by her dog's sudden movement. "What's wrong?"

Terry forced herself to calm down for her owner's sake. But she knew this couldn't go on. Gently, she licked Alicia's face to calm her down. Then, as soon as her owner was asleep, she gently climbed down off the bed and crept down the stairs. She paused a moment as she passed the fireplace, and stared up at Yuke's collar. After a brief hesitation, she dragged a small chair over and climbed up on it, placing her front paws on the mantle. She wanted to have one last whiff of him before she did what she was about to do. She sniffed his collar, and she could still smell his musty, doggy smell. "Yuke," she whispered.

She hesitated. She felt like she was abandoning all that remained of him. After some thought, she hopped off the chair onto the floor and put her paws behind her collar. With some effort, she forced it off over her head. Then she picked it up and put it on the mantle by his.

"Its better this way," she whispered as she stared at the two collars. Then she jumped down again, headed out the door, and vanished into the darkness.

Well, that's all for now. It's not hard to see why Terry bailed, but she's going to find out the hard way that running away doesn't mend much.