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You sit upon your perch in the warmth of the boiler room, consumed by your thoughts as you watch various dogs mill around and talk quietly amongst each other. You know they know you are here; your presence is not an unwelcome one. The dogs of this town, you find, are not quite keen on chasing you when you so readily (and quite often, you might add) slice open offending noses with your claws. They have long learned that unkind lesson, and you are pleased.
You are most pleased to be left unbothered.
Balto had never needed to learn that lesson, which interests you. Enough to approach, enough to scent once in a while, and enough to watch over when in the company of many dogs, such as now.
His great chest rises and falls evenly, relaxed in this space. You are mildly surprised; you could never relax down there, amidst the large, hulking bodies. Not that he is undersized for what he is, no, and you can see even from your chosen spot that he is relaxed, even comfortable, and you can only imagine why.
Sometimes, you think privately that Balto could be quite...
Unnerving.
But despite that, despite the way that Balto is, the strangeness that surrounds him, it is not so much off-putting to you as it is simply a little confusing. You think that perhaps that is the wolf, in him. To be comfortable surrounded by not-kin, it is strange to you, and so you watch over him.
(And you watch him often, when he comes into town; you are no dog, but even you can tell that he doesn't much behave like one, and you knew this before you knew him.
You have seen wolves, before. As much as it disturbs you, you know you could be prey to them; you know to stay away. You know he doesn't see you as such, that you two are amiable, are friends even, but.
Sometimes, you can't help but wonder.)
"Hey, Balto?" Calls a dog that you do not know, interrupting your thoughts.
One of said wolfdog's ears twitches, his golden eyes blinking open from the light doze he had settled into near the boiler. Your chosen perch is equally as warm, and you do not blame him for it, could not fault him, even if it confuses you.
"Yeah?" His head lifts, expression blank.
He then yawns, flashing sharp, long teeth, and stretches out his large forepaws whose claws glinted in the dim light. They were dark, like yours, but he could not sheath them.
(That would never stop being odd to you, no matter how many creatures you meet.)
"How come you never bark?" That same dog asks curiously. Your ear flicks despite yourself. Dogs do bark, a lot, all the time, and especially at you.
Balto never has.
"Am I supposed to?" The wolfdog tips his head to the side, something dubious in his tone, like he had never considered doing such a thing.
Your whiskers twitch.
"I. Dunno?" Says the dog you don't know, a hulking white and black and brown thing, her voice turning a touch confused. "I just wondered, is all, since we all do it. Must be a reason you don't?"
"Well, sure, I suppose," Balto's muzzle pulls in an odd grimace, and doesn't continue.
At least he's thinking about it, you muse. You yourself don't vocalize often. Because-
"I guess I don't see any point in it."
Your whiskers twitch again, pleased that he feels the same.
"How come?" The dog scoots closer, but not close enough to crowd, obviously intent on keeping their conversation quiet.
Good dog, you think.
"To us, it's more like..." Balto stops, thumps his tail once, twice to the floor. He gives a thoughtful, grumbling hum, then perks up.
"It's a warning, urgent. Kind of like a 'heel', to cubs," he nods, looking satisfied.
You don't really know what that's supposed to mean, but it seems to make sense to the dog, as she nods in understanding.
"Is it something just for pups, then?" She asks, still curious, and you briefly wonder why she's so interested, but it could just be a thirst for knowledge. She seemed the intelligent type.
"No, not always," Balto shook his great head, his ruff of gray fur gently swaying with the motion.
(You may or may not experience a flash of jealousy at the sight; your fur feels much too thin for the snow, sometimes, that's all.)
"Ah, it's hard to explain," the wolfdog lightly despaired. Then, after another moment of thought, asks, "What does your warning-bark sound like? Say, if someone strange came by, and your pups or pack were in danger."
"Well, that's easy, it'd go something like-"
Rrrr-ou-ouff!
You watch as some heads turn, but even a short glance could tell anyone that there was no actual threat. Your fur bristled anyway in response; too many eyes in your direction always got you feeling nervous.
(You may or may not also feel just a tiny smidge wary of the dog-you-don't-know; she was quite large. And her voice was huge.)
"Like us, then," Balto nods, then squints. "Sort of."
"Oh, how so?"
"Better if I demonstrate."
And suddenly, Balto is standing to his full height, and his muzzle is wrinkling, and-
And suddenly, your fur is standing on end, and you are cowering against the wall, because that guttural, snarling bark resonated straight through your bones, telling you to get away, and you are thoroughly reminded once again that your friend is not like you, and is not a dog.
The room had gone still; you notice, through your instinctual fear, that the dog-you-don't-know is struck silent, her body tense and ready to flee. You watch, silently, as she slowly rolls with a thin whine, showing her belly, and you see something in Balto change, and you watch him take a few pawsteps over to nose at her throat and wide muzzle with a friendly, swaying tail, and you think-
Oh.
And then-
Dogs are so strange.
You come to a decision, then. You stop cowering, you shake out your fur, you groom your paws, and you leap down to greet him.
Your friend.
You pad over, pawsteps light and unhurried, tail kinking over your back. You bunt your small head against Balto's foreleg, purring. He snuffles at your ears in his own greeting, and when you meet his bright, golden, wild gaze, he is smiling.
The dog-you-don't-know rights herself, something new gleaming in her brown eyes, and her tongue is lolling. You think she looks happy, and you can't imagine why, but that's probably for the best.
(You think if it were up to you, they would all learn your ways, instead.
They were such strange creatures.)
"Wow! Wow!" She yips, sounding delighted, bowing playfully at you and your friend. She then hops back up, curled tail wagging wildly.
"That was so cool, Balto! Wow! I didn't know I would do that!" Her enthusiasm breaks the odd tension in the room that you've been pointedly ignoring; the others resettle, and you realize that this dog is very young, and is simply large for her paws. You understand her curiosity, now.
Something fond unfurls in your chest; you have always liked kits.
"Usually, something like that is for intruders, I believe," your friend says, sitting on his haunches and allowing you to butt up under his chin when he lowers his head for you. "Ones that won't leave, that you might have to kill."
"Are wolves very vocal? You're usually so quiet!" The dog-kit-you-don't-know asks, tail still swaying as she mirrors him. Your whiskers twitch again.
"Yes, and especially with pack," Balto nods, a faint smile in his eyes. He looks pleased, patiently indulging the young thing and her questions. "I've learned to not do it so much around humans. They frighten easily, you know."
"I do! My little boy, he spooks every time the howls start up," the dog-kit says, exasperation clear on her face.
"Poor thing," you say blandly. Your tail flicks Balto's paw. You're thinking of retreating back to your cozy perch.
"He is, but he's my boy," she flops bonelessly to the ground, tail thumping the floor as she smiles at you. You think she looks silly.
"You look very silly," you tell her.
She barks at you, some wordless thing, but you don't hear anything but laughter in it, so you flick your tail once more and ignore Balto's quiet chuff as you turn away.
You leap back up to your chosen place, satisfied that your friend is well, and that his new friend will make him happy for the next little while.
You will keep watch regardless, just to be sure.