The first thing that Balto realized well before his eyes even opened, was the deep and searing pain that he felt radiating from his throat, this pain being one that instinctively evoked a swallow from the hybrid; but said swallow was immediately regretted for the mechanical motion of his Adam's apple only intensified the pain, causing him to wince as an attempt to cope with it. He slowly allowed his eyes to peel open and it was then that the real pain could register. As soon as the muscles around his eyes began to move, he could feel the swelling, of which he had only now recognized, jeopardized his vision, only allowing his eyes to open up about half way. He was dazed, his mind still lost in a fog, much to the point that he did not even realize that he had been brought inside; but he would soon register this just as soon as he shifted his body, feeling the woolen blanket tugging at his fur as it slid along his back. He paused for a moment then to ponder what had happened. He could remember everything right up to the point where Steele had delivered his third punch, but after that it was rather vague. He groaned and shifted his body again so that he may get his paws beneath him and then starkly pushed himself up off of the ground, allowing his blanket to roll off of his back and to the ground, and for a moment, he stood on wobbly legs, trying to rebuild his strength. After a short time had allotted, he coughed and took his first step.

"B-horis," he choked in a hoarse voice, staggering forward and out of the cabin as a drunkard would stagger home from the bar.

Just as soon as his voice had become audible, four forms flooded into his sight, these four forms being Boris, Luk, Muk, and Jenna, but as anxious as each of these individuals were to greet the hybrid, they paused with a respectable distance between him and themselves through fear of aggravating his wounds if they were to embrace him. Balto stood before them with his fatigued head held just above his shoulders, doing his best to greet the party with a smile; but in his current state, all he could manage was a meek and compulsory grin.

Jenna was the first to ask the imminent question that each of them had on their minds, meeting eyes with the hybrid and then breaking away intermittently.

"Are you… alright?" she asked him gauchely, her eyes retreating to her paws.

Balto sighed.

"Well… I feel like I kissed a train as it rolled by, but other than that I'm good," he answered hoarsely, however failing to allow his sense of humor to be squandered by the events that had transpired in the earlier hours.

This brought meager smirks to Boris, Jenna, and the two polar bear cubs, which in turn brightened Balto's smile faintly, but in truth he still felt terrible. Boris, having spent nearly three years with the hybrid, was able to pick around Balto's disguise, but he kept this to himself and simply turned wordlessly, reaching down near the wall adjacent to the entrance of the cabin and taking an old tin pan into his wings, splashing a few droplets of water out of the top. He turned to Balto once again and set the bowl before his paws.

"Drink zis boy chick," he said to Balto condolingly, "might help vith pain."

Balto nodded and dipped his muzzle down toward the pan, burying his lips in the slushy liquid and lapping at it greedily with a parched tongue, grimacing after each swallow from the soreness in his throat; and he did not stop until he had completely imbibed the pan's contents, pulling his head slowly back up and licking across his mouth with a loud smack once he had finished.

"Thank you," he thanked gratefully, evoking a curt nod from Boris.

For a moment, all remained silent, and then rose up the question in Balto's mind, the one question that Jenna dreaded the most.

"What happened to me?" he asked them in befuddlement, for the second half of the story remained aloof of his recognition and knowledge.

All eyes turned their focus to Jenna and under these gazes, however tranquil as they were; she shifted about apprehensively, failing to meet the eyes of any who looked upon her.

"Y- Steele almost killed you," Jenna answered flatly, sadness woven into her voice.

These words flowed into Balto's ears and swirled about in his psyche, bringing about a new sense of affliction and mortification to the hybrid. Hearing this angered him, bringing a red veil about the rims of his spectrum, for now that he had been reminded of the events that had transpired earlier, everything became clear to him right up to the point where he blacked out. He growled, ignoring the protestant uproar in the depths of his throat, and he slammed a paw into the snow which had accumulated on the deck.

"He kicked me while I was down," Balto seethed, "cowardly snake."

He began to pace, his energy returning to him with the new feeling of rage that coursed through his veins. He wanted Steele to hurt, wanted him to bleed for what he had done today; but Balto was no fool. He knew that the consequences for his actions would more than likely not be worth the result that he would hopefully get, and so these feelings of hatred he buried, telling himself that Steele would get his eventually, be it by him or by his own paws, one day he would get his.

Jenna could sense his anger and she was quick in her attempt to dispose him of it, stepping forward before him and catching his eyes with hers. No words were exchanged between the two, for words were not necessary for each of them to understand how the one standing across from them was feeling.

Balto stopped before her and stared into her gaze, thus settling himself again, and he returned to his previous state, only this time he did not hurt near as badly as he had before, for the mechanical motion of his body had worked some of the soreness out of his muscles. That did not, however, completely eradicate the physical impairments and mental ailments that still remained present to him. He could still only see out of one of his eyes and his throat throbbed viciously, but he knew that these would in time become nothing more than bitter memories just like any other reflection that he possessed about his past. It was apparent to him at this moment as he stared into the copper female's eyes that he was now unsure how he should be feeling, so he allowed himself to collapse under her gaze and succumb to the emotion that felt most natural to him, and this was depression. He allowed his thoughts to wander into the negative again. He was a feeble and weak canine, undoubtedly incapable of defending those whom he cared for, unwanted in the world, as was made evident in town earlier when he was shunned away from his position on the team that would be sent to retrieve the antitoxin to bring medical relief to the town's children, and now he had probably lost all hope that he had once possessed of actually being able to be with Jenna for the rest of his life. He had convinced himself at that very moment that Steele had been right all along and he was certain that Jenna knew he was right as well. The only reason why Jenna even affiliated herself with him was strictly because she pitied him. She was a mere saint who decided to help the wrong person and it was because of her good-hearted nature, that her name had been blackened in town as well. He knew the complexities of the town's society, witnessed firsthand the incredulous looks that Jenna got as she walked the general public, heard through the vine the derogatory rumors that floated about in the streets about him and her; rumors that she was pregnant with his pups, that she was in all senses mentally insane, and it was all his fault. He knew that she did not deserve this, knew that he did not deserve her pity, not even her presence. He was but dirt in the presence of a goddess.

Jenna was displaced by his silence, for she had expected him to say at least something, but as it were, he only stared at her, and then he would refuse to look at her at all. She could see the pain behind those faded, yellow eyes, but the thoughts in his mind that would bring such an exorbitant affliction to his presence eluded her. The situation had deteriorated completely at this moment, beginning with just the faintest flicker of hope that had now turned into a sea of pain and sadness for her hybrid friend. She should have just stayed at home today, spared Balto of the misery and emotional disposition; but she was selfish in her own needs to get out of town and speak with somebody who would actually listen to her. Balto did not blame her personally, but in her eyes it seemed almost as though he did because he turned away from her wordlessly now, a lot like he had done in the earlier hours of the day. His only desire at present was to be let alone so that he could grieve in solitary seclusion, but Jenna seemed to want to establish a form of closure before she made her departure. She cleared her throat nervously and took a step to follow him.

"Balto please," she begged, but he offered no response, did not even acknowledge that she had spoken to him.

Balto once again disappeared into the cabin and Jenna took another step to follow, but was stopped when she felt something deposit itself gently upon her shoulder. She turned to see Boris staring back at her with wistful eyes.

"Leave him to himself," he said to her gently, "he just needs a little time."

Jenna answered only with a slow nod, letting her ears fold back until they were only about a finger's width above her skull. She figured that she had better get along home, especially since Rosy was ill in the hospital, but before she left, she still had one more thing that she needed to take care of. As she walked past the cabin, she turned her head in toward Balto.

"Thank you for everything," she thanked despondently, not even pausing, and then took to the plank, slowly making her descent to the snow and then disappearing over the horizon before the town.

Balto offered no reply, only laid under his blanket thinking about all that had gone wrong, where he had gone wrong, where everything had gone wrong and these thoughts eventually coaxed him into a long, dreamless slumber.

Night greeted the hybrid's eyes as his eyelids slowly peeled themselves open, revealing just a silhouetted image of the cabin before him, made visible only by the subtle, blue rays of moonlight that bled through the doorway and many discrepancies in the wood surrounding him. The next of his comprehensions was that he was actually able to see out of both of his eyes and that the pain in his throat had lessened significantly. He was amazed at how much of a difference just a few hours of sleep could make for the healing process, but was not at all surprised when he found that he had woken with a mood that was very similar to the one that he had fallen unconscious with- however long ago that was. He wanted to just lay there, try to fall asleep again and just forget about his problems, but sleep simply would not answer his call and in the end he found himself pushing his body up from the ground and shaking his blanket to the floor and sauntering out into the night. He felt all of his anguish, all of his feelings of helplessness and despair, quelling up inside of him, fighting for a channel in which to escape. He had experienced this feeling quite often, going way back to the time that he realized that his mother had died that night in an attempt to save him and his brother from that lynx, and like every other occurrence since then, in his times of deepest remorse, he could feel his throat rising and falling, becoming tight and then dilating again, almost as though some primal instinct was trying to break itself free from the chains in which he had restrained it, but like every instance before, it failed to make a tangible presence. He knew not what this sensation was, and he quite honestly dreaded these feelings; but thus far he could not find any way to satisfy the urge, so once again he would have to bury the feeling as best as he could and get on with his life. As the very tip of his tail breeched the cabin doorway, he paused, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him. In the distance, made visible only by the pallid, orange glow of lanterns and torch light was the town of Nome. Normally quiet at this hour, most of the humans having already turned out their lamps, the town would seem almost dead, ghost like; but tonight, the entire town seemed as awake and alive as it did on days of festival, for why should they not be celebrating? The "big heroes" were leaving out tonight on their quest for the antitoxin of which would bring relief to the sickly children of the town. He knew that he should not be thinking so negatively about the team elected to retrieve the medicine, for it mattered not who went to fetch it just so long as it were to arrive in time to save those in need; but despite all of this, he could feel a nagging sense of bitter betrayal tugging at the back of his mind. He had just as much reason and just as much right to go with them as anybody else on the team; after all, he did place first the qualifier, but his bloodlines ripped such rights away from him, obstructing him of his one chance at proving to the town once and for all that he was not the hell spawn that they saw him as. Was that all though? Or did this go deeper? Did he feel so let down because he knew that this would have been the best chance that he would have gotten at impressing Jenna? He could see himself running into town under the deafening roar of cheers and applause, the looks of weariness on the faces of the afflicted children as they were each slowly stirred from their sickly, coma-like slumber, could see Jenna standing in and amongst them, smiling back at him with admiration gleaming forth from her eyes; but all of that was just a dream now. Steele would fetch the medicine, receive all of the glory, maybe even finally convince Jenna to court with him, and as always, he would be stuck watching it all from the shadows.

These thoughts rambled through his mind as he hopped up onto the stack of crates that lay pressed up against the rail of the bow and stared out at the town; and not a moment too soon, for just as soon as his right forepaw made contact with the rail of the boat, the sled team could be seen bolting down the final stretch of Front Street and out of town. He watched them forlornly, turning his head slowly to track their progress across the dark ice. It wasn't long, however, before the darkness of night swallowed them, shielding them from sight. He sat himself back on his haunches at this point, allowing an embittered scowl fix itself upon his features and lowering his head so that his chin was parallel to the center of his chest. He shut his eyes tightly; jettisoning his anger, for that feeling would do nothing to solve his problem, and replacing it with defeat. It was time, he knew, for him to just except facts. Nothing in life had ever gone his way before, so why would he expect it to now? Boris was right all along. He won and they still refused to see past his inner wolf. He should have just stayed home today and he would have avoided it all; but-

His train of thought was derailed when he heard a familiar grunt and scrape as a certain white goose clambered his way up onto the crates and took his place wordlessly at his side. The two of them remained silent, neither one in much of a mood to talk, but for Balto, just having Boris beside him was enough at this point to provide comfort. He sighed and lifted his head, slowly opening his eyes. He kept his attention focused on the town, for he needed not look over to the old snow goose to know what he was thinking, and Boris needed not for Balto to speak to know what the hybrid was feeling, as was the mutual bond that the two shared with one another, the bond that allowed them to be so close, even to the point of love, the love found between a father and a son. Boris could sense the crestfallen hybrid's feelings beginning to bank and he laid a gentle wing on his shoulder.

"Come on inside boychick," he said softly, "you'll catch death out here."

Balto sighed, answering only with a single nod, and then rose to his feet, casting one final gaze out at the town, and then stepping down to the deck of the boat. He ran a slow glance toward Boris and then began to walk toward the cabin, sliding his way beneath his woolen blanket and laying his head on his paws. Boris followed behind him, taking his corner in the back and leaning against it, sliding himself down onto his rump and folding his wings across his plump belly.

"Good night," he said with a yawn.

"Night," Balto answered and allowed his eyes to close.