Whether he survives is not the question, for he has the strength of a bear; whether he lives, is where his story begins. Northern Canada, a harsh setting of solitude and beauty. Dark wood trees rest on either side of the frozen waterway. The sheer cold has stripped their bark, exposing their frost tipped white fangs. An overwhelming silence reigned over the vast land. Desolate, lifeless, a wasteland without movement-so alone. But even this could not break his spirit. The sheer cold couldn’t crush that hint of happiness and a hint of laughter in him. A fire burning within. He stood there, walking through the hellish cold wasteland that seemed never ending and grim, filled with treasure only the ones brave and strong as him could experience.
A quick glance down as he observes himself. Snow collapsed around his boots. frost stained pants and a look at his jacket. Two patches at the pecks of his body. One making a statement with three bars, two red and one white, with a maple red symbol in the middle. The other making a statement with eight symbols he cannot read these symbols, for they are wrong side up and covered in frost. However, he smiles and thinks of the symbols right side up. With a face owned by a beard and smile, “Wolfgang” he says, continuing on his way. His smile and spirit burning warm. A fire eternal. He smiles with the thought that there is treasures to be found in this tundra. His breath froze in the air as it exited his mouth and nose. It was one of the few sights to see while walking. Ahead he sees something he may be looking for; An old worn shack. He approaches the shack with caution, unaware of the danger present. As he approaches close, he now knows..
He has found what he is looking for, shelter and material. After being lost for so long, a sight of salvation peaks through to him. The flame within ignites and may rest easy now. He approached carefully and steadily towards, unaware of what he may find. He reaches the shack and knocks, only for no answer. He tries again; The same result. With a response lacking, he enters the shack. His heart once warm, turns to ice.
A man lays on a couch not breathing. Something typical. However the body is accompanied. A dog lay there on top, sad and tired. The dog is aware of the him entering the house, but stares and nothing more. Even a husky in the north has to have some kindness and heart. He approaches the dog and the dead man, wishing to know more. There isn’t much to find. He turns to leave and begins to walk, only to hear a cry as he begins. He turns to see the dog let down its head and sigh. He wanted to leave, but knew he couldn’t. He survived in the cold no longer, he lives now. It is cold, so he grabs some wood from a pile, and starts the wood stove in the shack.
As the shack warms, he lets down his gear, and himself to the man and dog. The dog moves from attop the man and sits next to him. The dead man did not suffer, no sign of struggle. The man’s skin wrinkled and hair white, it was clear that the man’s time had come. The dog then whimpers and leans against him. Astonished by how friendly and open the dog is, he puts his arms up and wraps them around the dog. He looks down at the dog’s tags, engraved a name that matches his: Wolf. A smile on his face and warmth in his heart again, he stands and pets the dog. He takes what will help him and heads for the door. The dog by his side, he looks down to see the dog’s smile. The fire within connects them both. He opens the door, the dog happy to follow. He walks into the snow, looking at the dog with a smile, and says “c’mon boy, it’s time to go.”