12.

Nome, 1925

"Well, Eran…how do you feel?"

'Like I'm about to go through a bunker full of mustard gas without a mask,' Eran thinks rather balefully but he only nods his shaggy head.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he admits with a bit of hesitation in his voice.

They are on the outskirts of Nome again, but this time with a different destination. Far from the desolate boat in its isolated state, they will instead make their way to the boiler room where the dogs get together for their evening meetings. Granted the warehouse is located along the exterior of the settlement it's still too close for comfort on Eran's part.

It is dark and most of the residents are asleep but Eran doesn't want to risk being spotted by a lone night wanderer who would happen to look out a window. Then again he is about to fully reveal himself to a bunch of dogs who could go crazy, wake the neighborhood and the fat will really be in the fire then.

"Eran," Aleu sighs as if his hesitance is annoying her, which it probably is, "it'll be fine, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Aside from getting hit in the head with a mop?" Questions Eran as he reminds her of the first time she introduced him to someone new, "not much."

Aleu grins in mild embarrassment before she starts pushing Eran forward or at least she tries to, "well if you don't want the humans to see you then get moving."

"But I'm not sure if I want the dogs to see me either," he protests.

"This has to happen sooner or later," she growls at him with that familiar determination blazing in her eyes, "now will you get moving, or do I have to drag you?"

"You?" Eran questions with a raised eye ridge, "drag me?"

"By the tail, if I have to," she huffs with her irritation clear in the open.

The giant black creature regards her smaller frame for a moment before giving her his infamous wicked smile, "lead the way lady wolf."

"So who is Aleu's new friend?" Kodi asks his father with a meaningful look on his face.

That quickly disappears though when Balto gives his son a hardened look, "they are friends Kodi and nothing more."

Kodi glances away to escape his father's glare, unsure if he has ever seen him act this way before.

Noting his son's silence, Balto sighs and bumps into Kodi's shoulder.

"Sorry son," he says, "I just…I just don't trust this…creature, especially when he is with Aleu."

Kodi feels like he has more questions than answers now. His father has more than enough reason to loath humans, wolves, and dogs. Despite that, though he always kept any demeaning talk to himself and shows everyone respect or at the very least keeps silent when he has nothing nice to say.

To hear him speak so balefully about this Eran and with no clear indication of what his species is…is a bit unnerving. He notices the same behavior in his mother who is sitting beside Balto, keeping silent and seems deep in thought. Kodi begins wondering if now is a good time to tell his parents about his and Dusty's surprise.

At this thought, he glances at Dusty who is snuggled next to his body looking like she is about to drift off at any time. He really doesn't have a choice though; soon Dusty will be unable to run and he will have to ask his father for help in filling in for her.

Should he say it now? No, best he waits till Aleu gets here, she'll probably be over the moon about this without a doubt.

Kodi, his team and family are in the boiler room, all warm and cozy along with the other dogs as they talk about their day. Kodi missed this, the sense of community that they all take part in. Sure he and his team are welcomed into any town they bring the mail to, but none have a warehouse with a running stove that they could all congregate in.

He notes how Ralph is trying to hit on a husky and Ralph is making a friend with a Rottweiler as they talk of the many uses of cheese. Or rather where to stuff it in order to get a funny reaction from their owners.

All seems right in the world, but his parent's unease is starting to get to him. He wonders if he should try and pry from them again when the main door opens a bit and allows a familiar grey figure in.

"Aleu," Jenna practically cries out as she stands up with a relieved look on her face, "did…did everything go well with Eran?"

Kodi notes the hint of fear in his mother's voice but bites down on his questions for now.

"Things are…great," she finishes half-heartedly as her tail lowers close to the ground.

"Aleu," Balto says with a light warning in his tone. Kodi recognizes the tone anywhere. His father can sense when one of his children is hiding something from him and he wants to know what it is.

Aleu visibly swallows before saying, "remember when you said Eran needed to introduce himself to the dogs and wolves?"

"…yes?" Balto says with an uneasy tone.

Aleu then whispers something beneath her voice.

"What?" Balto asks.

Aleu speaks softly again.

"What?" Balto asks for a second time.

Finally, Aleu sighs as she looks up and says, "He's outside the door."

'Run, run, run!'

Eran has to fight off this instinct as he looks around him every few minutes. This is a really bad stupid idea. He is lying in the snow again but he is about to have a nervous breakdown, he can feel it. His spine is starting to shiver and it's not because of the snow. He grits his teeth and tightens his hands.

He feels like bolting, like getting as far away as possible. Logically he should but he couldn't. He breathes out heavily, he couldn't abandon Aleu. She trusts him. It's time he trusts her in turn.

Inside he can hear the dogs, chattering away in cheerful voices as they talk of their families, their homes, and little complaints they have about their neighbors. If Eran didn't know any better he could have mistaken the room to be full of humans.

Humans or not, he still doesn't belong, and that thought puts a dull ache in his chest as he heaves heavily. What can he do when neither men nor beast wants anything to do with him.

The voices inside quiet down a bit and he thought he heard Aleu speaking. He couldn't really hear what she is saying exactly but he notices how the babble of conversation slowly becomes quiet before dead silence is all he hears.

A couple of seconds passes when the crack in the door widens and Aleu pokes her head out and she sees Eran in the snow. She smiles and cheekily says, "You're so cute down there."

Eran feels his face burning but is able to hide it by huffing with mock irritation before saying, "Well?"

The smile fades from her muzzle as she says, "they're waiting for you."

Eran sighs as he rises up on his four legs and says, "Might as well get it over with."

Aleu nods as she pushes the door open some more as he carefully rises and he walks inside.

The last time Eran felt this much anticipation was…was too long ago.

France 1918

"Adroit par quatre!"

The squad turns right.

"Avant!"

The squad moves forward fifty paces.

"Arretez!"

Finally, they came to a halt.

"Que dis-je toujours!?" the blue-clad commander demands. What does he always say?

"Avance toujours en avant!" responds the men. Forward, always forward.

From a distance, they could have been mistaken for French soldiers, but upon closer inspection, they are U.S Marines in their green-field uniforms, backpacks, helmets, and rifles resting against their shoulders. They stood in a small cluster while their instructor, who stood apart from them, looks the squad over with a critical eye.

The blue devil nods in approval as he casually walks in front of the young men. Everyone remains still as he does so, none daring to make a move, to show any kind of disrespect towards the man strolling down their ranks.

Their instructor is Sergent Jean Agen, a twenty-five year-old who could pass for forty. His hair is thinning and already greying as well as his full mustache. His face is lined and sags a bit, but it's his eyes that the Marines are intrigued by. They are bright, aflame with energy and strength, a fighting spirit that, unlike theirs, have been tested and survived in combat.

His uniform is a dark blue complete with a belt of weapons on his hip and beret on his head. Upon the headgear is a golden insignia sewn on a golden French horn, the symbol of the 115th French Chasseurs Alpins.

The young Americans have heard many stories of the war, but the blue devils rank the highest among them, right above the British Tommies who fought at Somme. These warriors earned their legendary statues from their near year long engagement; the battle of Verdun. The Germans had mounted a massive attack on France and tried to wrench a part of it from the Frenches' grasp. The cost was great, horrific, and unbelievable. These men have survived the worst of the war, as far as the Marines were concerned, these men walked through Hades and returned.

The Marines have been on the wet slippery field for nearly five hours, it is the afternoon and the training so far has been light compared to what they have been doing all summer long. Something seemed different today, every one of the enlisted men seems to be thinking it as well, but what?

Sergeant Agen looks like he is about to belch another command when movement catches his eyes and sees one of the Marine Lieutenants making his way towards them.

"Attention!" Agen shouts and everyone snaps to. Standing tall and staring straight ahead, waiting for further orders.

The Lieutenant is in battle uniform but is without weapon, helmet, or gear. He must have just walked over from "Chef de Section," French platoon's commander school as it's called. While the officers did participate in the same training like the enlisted men, they are also required to go to a nearby "school" where French and British officers give classes on what is expected of the soon to be battle commanders.

The American CO's grips about the long class hours, but they did compliment the food they are given. This made everyone else, including Kyle for that matter, envy the officers, even more, considering that the enlisted sweat, bled, and starved in the training scenarios that the blue devils are putting them through.

The officer looks the men over and nods in approval before giving the French soldier what could have been an embarrassed grin.

"You're doing a fine job, Sergeant," the officer commends, "but…well…Regiment Command would appreciate it if you continue drills in...Well English."

Agen is still for a moment before speaks with a heavy accent, "yes sir."

The officer nods again, nods to the Marine squad before turning back the way he has come and walks away.

Agen watches him go until he is a few yards away before turning back to the Marines.

"Dismiss for the day," he tells them and makes a shooing gesture.

The Marines acknowledge the command and they all turn and begin walking back towards the mess tent for lunch. As they move Kyle looks over the shoulder and sees Agen taking out a small book and furiously begins flipping through it. He then sees the book is actually a French-to-English translation journal.

The Marine regiments are broken up into their individual companies while a compatriot of blue devils in similar numbers are paired with them to help tutor their warfighting expertise. This proved to be difficult since few if any French soldiers knew English and the same can be said about the Americans when it came to knowing French.

Some of the Blue Devils though know some commands, most of which they learned from their British comrades during their time together on the line or when participating in co-op operations. Regardless, it isn't too uncommon for Marines to be trained with a mix of English and French.

Still, they probably shouldn't be too surprised with the new order. Regiment Commander Neville is a bit of a stickler or perhaps it is the stressful situation he is entangled with regarding the French and British at the moment.

Rumors are circulating that the British and French command wants the Americans under their control due to their own combat experience when compared to that of the Americans. The rumors also state that if this happens then the Marines will be used as replacements for fallen soldiers along the front lines. The American commanders since then have been fiercely objecting to such conditions and insist that their soldiers remain together as one unit.

Kyle's reminiscing is interrupted as the small group of Marines make it to a small rest area where a cook has a pot of stew simmering over a fire, briefly raising their spirits but also suspicion. To help prepare them for battle they have been restricted to eating rations for their daily meals and having warm food in the midst of war seems almost too good to be true. Still, they shrug this off as they each gather around and are handed a bowl of the warm broth.

Kyle chose to sit on the grass by himself while other Marines cluster together. Eric and Dublin were separated from Kyle earlier, having been "volunteered" to help unload an inbound supply train. Despite being left out, Kyle still attended training as they have always done. Now Kyle takes this time to relax, eat a spoonful of broth and thinks back on the past few months.

After a lot of confusion following their venture inland, the American Division is finally whole. They are now a part of the Second Division; "the square division" as it's called due to it being made up of two Marine regiments and two Army regiments, including an artillery battalion and the 2nd Engineer regiment. The Marines make up the 4th Brigade, consisting of Kyle's 5th Marine Regiment as well as the 6th Marine Regiment (finally arriving from the states) and the 6th Machine Gun Battalion.

If the math is done right then they should have a total of 28,000 soldiers. 9,444 being Marines, counting both the enlisted men and officers.

They have been practicing, training, and in the officers' case, studying with the 115th Blue Devils. It took a large chunk out of their summer and some of the boys did feel some frustration for leaving the US just to return to a regular training routine but right now it seems to be worth it.

Before all they had to go off were out-dated combat manuals that talked of the theories of combat. Having actual trainers who actually fought is more than useful, especially with the small tips and bits that are given. Such as there are worse fates to fear than getting shot.

Just as many men were lost to disease and the dreaded "trench foot" than in combat. They are to expect attacks at any moment, be it by infantry, artillery, or gas. They need to be mindful of disease-carrying rodents, they can't be exterminated but that doesn't mean the Marines should ignore them. And also, their spades can be useful improvised melee weapons, even if dull it can hack a man to pieces.

Still, there were some things the French couldn't get the men ready for or teach how to survive. Such as their meals; which are usually old and hard and maybe even seen as more hazardous than nutritious. They have done countless demonstrations and mock attacks to prepare them for the front line but they can tell by the frowning faces of their French teachers that they weren't satisfied with the enactment of the battle.

Kyle has an eerie memory of resting on the side of the hill and overhearing a conversation between two Alpine men talking to one another. He tried to translate and almost regretted what he heard. The men were pitying the Marines; apparently, they just have seen the Americans rush across a field and, though fast, the French comments that the modern machine guns will drop them all in half a second.

Despite that training went on. They wake up every morning, have breakfast, then march to wet, icy windswept marshes in the surrounding countryside and begin training.

They learned everything that is useful; digging trenches, new methods of bayonet fighting, how to raid enemy trenches, how to throw or fire grenades, how to set up defenses, learn to use signals ranging from lamps to semaphore (usage of flags), hiking from sunup to sundown, sleeping in trenches and, possibly the worst thing ever, go through the gas chambers.

The primary masks distributed were British and French made. A rubber mask that goes over the head, a pair of clippers to clasp the nose and prevent breathing through it and a mouthpiece to grip in the teeth. You breathe through it and down through a rubber tube that is connected with a tin can of chemicals held in the canvas case held around the neck. The French mask is wet and smelly as it's held about the face. Both kinds have goggles affixed. They needed to "practice, practice, practice" until it can be put on in 5 seconds.

In five seconds they had to hold their breath while they put the mask on, pull the elastic straps over the head, insert a rubber mouthpiece through which a person is to try and breathe through, adjust the almost unbearable nosepiece and feel the mask to make sure it filled closely about the face and under the chin.*

Even when they aren't being forced through the gas chambers they must train till it's second nature to hold the mask in "alert position." This is when the big clumsy mask rests on their chest, a few inches below the chin. It was suspended by a strap around the neck while a string attached to both sides of the carrier ran around the body to keep from flopping as they move.

The Marines had to be ready for at any time an officer will yell "gas!" and the enlisted will have to scramble for the masks. As time went on they become more accustomed and quicker when putting the breathing device on. For Kyle, it truly did seem to become second nature but still, he didn't like it for the stuffiness and smell.

As their skills grew, trainers began timing them, stressing that they only had seconds to act risk death or becoming crippled. The scenarios and stories they tell the young men helped too.

At the start of the war, chemical warfare was mostly restricted to the usage of tear gas and sneeze powder, both originally meant to demoralize the enemy. Then the Germans made it into a deadly weapon in April 1915 at Ypres. France and Britain soon followed suit with their own toxic verities.

The official term is Asphyxiates, according to some French surgeons it more or less translates to "a means of suffocation" and what is often what is used to describe the effects of the gas.

Chlorine was the most common, it forms hydrochloric acid when it comes into contact with moisture like eyes or lungs, destroying the respiratory organ and causes slow painful death by suffocation.

Then there is phosgene which some veterans claim to smell low mew mow hay and diphosgene. Like chlorine, it irritates the eyes and respiratory tract, ultimately causing a buildup in fluids in the lungs and resulted in death by drowning.

But the one gas they have been taught to fear the most is the dreaded mustard gas. It'll cause a great big blister anywhere you perspire, including and not limited to under the arms and between the legs. It attacks moist skin, eyes, lungs, armpits, and groin. What makes them most troubling though is that they're long-lasting, meaning it'll hang low close to the ground for hours or even days. A squad could be running through the battlefield or ducking into a nearby crater only to find themselves blinded with skin blistering and lung bleeding.

The stories always sound exaggerated but Kyle sees the haunted look in their eyes and thinks otherwise. The French have proven they're hardened warriors just by how they carry themselves with complete authority and confidence. If they say to be wary, then the Marines should heed them.

To further the point, signs started to be hung up all over the training area, all warning of gas. The Marines knew the French weren't insane enough to actually gas them and that they were to let the Marines know what the warning signs actually look like. However just as they practice they are on the battlefield they must also practice to keep their masks on their persons at all times in the alert position.

All in all, the training here is far more intense then what they had endured back in the states. All they had to go off of there were messages from their oversea allies, news wheels, and instruction manuals that talked about the concept of trench warfare but that pales in comparison to the war the French have been waging for the past few years.

The question now is will Kyle and his friends be ready when the time comes?

"Hey!"

Kyle and a few others look up to see a Private running up to them before he bends over and pants a bit, seeming to have run all the way from town.

"What's up Private?" one of the Sergeants asks.

After a moment the Private straightens up, face still red as he delivers the word.

"We're moving out, in a couple of hours back on the trains."

"Where to now?" someone questions, "London?"

There are a few chuckles here but they are half hearted. London sounds lovely but they joined nearly a year ago to fight a war and so far they have done nothing but train and train and train. No amount of horror stories can take away the fact that the Americans are itching to get in the fight.

Kyle isn't really sure, but still, being around this many enthusiastic young boys certainly gets Kyle's own excitement to grow.

"We're moving to the front line."

That statement made the smirks fade just a little. There are still smiles but not as much as before. The reality of what has just been said has yet to be registered, but Kyle feels a lump forming in his throat.

Finally, one guy asks to be sure, "to the front?"

The Private nods again, "We're leaving on the 14th, the Toulon Section on the heights of the Meuse. Just southeast of Verdun."

Nome 1925

Verdun…a place of a blood bath. Looks like Nome might be one as well.

Eran slowly steps into the room and stops dead. He keeps his eyes steady as he stares ahead, but that doesn't prevent him from seeing the dogs and their reactions.

Or rather the lack of thereof. Everyone is staring and gaping at him; the largest wolf looking creature that they have ever seen. His dark coat hides him in the shadow and the red glare of the fire that reveals his shape makes him look monstrous, his glowing crimson eyes probably didn't offer comfort either. The only dog that isn't frozen was Balto, aside from locking eyes with Eran the hybrid seems more concerned with his mate and grown children as he looks back and forth between them.

'Stay calm,' Eran keeps thinking, 'stay calm and don't do anything threatening or sudden or-'

A loud snap interrupts his thoughts and everyone jumps at the sound.

Eran looks down and sees that he has just stepped on a cow's femur bone and broke it in two. Breaking the bone of a large animal without effort. Oh yes, that sure looks normal to the light-footed dogs.

Eran decides to stop there and carefully sits on his hunches. Didn't do much to ease the tension, he is still at least two heads taller than any of the other canines. He draws his front paws closer to him, hoping that nobody notices they look more like hands than paws.

The silence continues before a grey shape maneuvers herself beside him and clears her throat, momentarily getting everyone's attention.

"Hi everyone," Aleu says carefully as she smiles, "um…I…like you all to meet Eran," she finishes with a jerk to the giant before them.

Eran is panicking on the inside. Should he run? Should he stay? He feels if anything he is about to faint from the anxiety threatening him.

"Eran is Kyle's animal companion," Aleu continues, "they will be living here so…Eran thought it was time he got to meet you all."

'Like I had any say in the matter,' Eran thinks to himself.

The room remains quiet as no one dares to speak or breathe.

"So…" Aleu trails off, her tail starting to swish back and forth in a nervous manner, "any quest-"

"What are you?" a voice in the back asks.

The dogs look over their shoulders but don't see the person who spoke. If it was due to him being shy or not wanting to risk provoking Eran's wraith is anyone's guess.

Eran never did like being put on the spot, but he does his best to remain cool-headed as he clears his throat and thinks of an appropriate response.

"I'm…a wolf breed from Europe," he finally says, hoping that is enough to satisfy their curiosity.

"What's Europe?" someone else questions.

'Right,' Eran remembers the dogs aren't men and thus don't really know world geography.

"Europe is a land across the ocean," he answers with a jerk towards the east, "it was there that my master…Kyle found me and brought me home with him."

"Where is home," a husky up front asks, "And what are you doing here?"

Eran releases a great huff, "Home is a land called Oklahoma down south," he then raises his big heavy shoulders, "but the people there didn't like me and…forced us out."

"Both of you?" This one comes from Aleu's brother Kodi, who looks greatly intrigued now and for the moment has forgotten his fear of the giant creature.

Eran ruins it though as he smiles and reveals his giant teeth, "Yeah…guess you can say Kyle and I can't be separated."

Slowly Eran's body becomes less tense and the dogs, in turn, ask more questions as the night begins to wane on.

Aleu has nestled herself close to her family and listens carefully to Eran's answers. He is revealing more of himself then she originally has thought he would which irked her a bit. She has spent so much time with him and barely knew him, now here he is giving a detailed account of his life to strangers…unless…

She turns to Balto and whispers, "Papa, do you know if what Eran is saying is…true?"

Balto has been wondering the same thing as well, but he has been keeping silent for the most part. It is Jenna that answers their wonderings.

"I've heard Kyle say that he is from this Oklahoma place," she reveals to her mate and daughter, "it may be true."

"But not all of it," Balto says to himself as he continues to observe the giant wolf creature, "surely he wouldn't tell us everything. He's probably just trying to lessen our fears for now."

"So…he is lying," Aleu is unsure whether to be upset or happy about this.

"I'm sure he has his reasons Aleu," Balto acknowledges with a bowed head, "but there is a chance that what he is saying may have some trace of truth in it."

She is his friend, and she hopes that maybe someday soon he will trust her enough to speak the truth of what he is. She doesn't know it, but she is getting a good sense of who he is and she likes it.

Oblivious of these spare thoughts she continues to listen as the fire keeps them warm and for the first time since Kyle's arrival, the dogs feel a bit of tension lessen as they listen to the wolf in their presence.