Nome, Alaska, 1926. The frigid air bites at your cheeks as you step out into the snowy streets. You’d heard the stories—tales of a certain dog who braved a blizzard to save the entire town, who brought life-saving medicine across miles of ice and snow, a hero in every sense of the word. Balto. It seemed like pure chance that you found yourself moving to the very city he saved, but it made the venture all the more thrilling. Maybe, you thought, you’d even catch a glimpse of him.

After a long day of unpacking and settling in, you decide to explore a little. The cold is sharp, cutting through your coat, but you came prepared; you knew it would be like this, and it’s all part of the adventure. As you walk along the quiet, snow-covered streets, you spot a figure trotting towards you, dark fur dusted with frost. You realize, with a jolt, that it’s him—Balto himself. He stops in front of you, studying you with sharp, intelligent eyes. Then, he raises a brow, looking curious.

“You new here? I’ve never seen you around before,” he says, voice gruff yet welcoming.