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It's been months, seasons. The smell of Jenna and her pups was all that came to Nome. All of the many whimpering pups having grown into larger beings, even the elusive and off-putting Aleu came around at times. Her body language was so much like Balto's that it drove Steele away. He hated the wolfdog. Despised her and her movements. She was terrifying, a creature neither dog nor wolf, but some kind of bloodthirsty large being.
He never dared to step where she walked, her paw prints vanishing nearly as soon as they were made. Her very body language was a silent promise of death. Only Jenna and her siblings were safe. The other dogs had aged or faded to the elements and wear of pulling mushers. Steele's aging had been very little, likely due to being such a young upstart. He'd been arrogant and Jenna had been eye candy but older. Balto was around his age – he hoped.
His tracking skills ran him in circles.
Steele felt so done with it that he nearly quit. Kodi had crossed his path more than once and he'd felt a sense of deja vu. The kid was off-putting. His muscles were like a beast. He could likely pull the sled by himself. The humans had probably never tried it, Steele dared the sky to make it happen. Let them see what the malamute was witnessing.
He thought himself crazy. Maddened by the shunning and isolation by everyone.
A goose flew over his head, and he paused around the old boat that only smelled a little of the wolfdog now. He had not been there for a long time. The goose trailed in loops, looking fat and delicious – and just like Balto's own!
He chased it, heedless of blending into the infinite fields of snow, or maneuvering around the banks that lay there as well. He barreled through them, kicking powder and ice all around himself. The goose strayed to a straight line, traveling with his head facing forward and never looking back. Steele could work with that just fine. He kept himself steady and determined.
Boris doesn't loop around anymore, though he does stop and get a drink in a fishing hole. He snaps up grass that dares to defy the weather, eats a fish, and makes Steele's patience feel worn out and beaten. He would kill the goose were it not his only way to finally find the elusive Balto. So he lays down and conserves his energy. Only rising when Boris takes flight. His meals before and during the hunt were enough to sustain him, he's able to keep up.
The endless snow threatens to blind him during different times of the day, it reflects right into his narrowed eyes and he strains to not lose sight as the goose goes down an embankment. Boris lands near a heavily wooded area. He dusts himself off, and subconsciously, so does Steele. Then he waddles into the woods. It's a fair distance from where the humans are, and only a foolish musher would bring his sled near the woods with how dense they are unless there was no other way.
He moves behind Boris, head lowered, and ears pricked. He can smell polar bears and... he scents it! The smell! The smell of a greater wolf than Balto, though it is faint. His body shudders at the smell, it is more powerful than even he can imagine. Has it fought Balto and bested him, he wonders. But Balto's scent is strongest. The goose in front of him begins to talk. “It's been a long day-”
But all other words are snuffed out as Steele sees Balto, perched upon a fallen tree and pondering. Balto, likewise, sees Steele. Boris spins upon his webbed feet, takes flight in fear of Steele, and the wolfdog lunges into the very spot the goose stood. “Steele!” He snarls, and he is all terrifying and great. Untouched by time while everyone else in Nome has been. Steele beholds him. His hackles raise instinctively.
“Balto.” He begins, teeth bore to as he jerks his head and faces the mutt head on.