Heather squinted as icy snow pellets bounced off her face. Man, she thought, this storm came up fast. She gathered her ice fishing gear and packed it in the sled. Her sled dogs, curled into eight furry balls in a line, came to life. Each dog stood, shook the snow off, and stretched its legs.
“Did you have a nice nap, Minden?” Heather ruffed up the cheeks of her leader and smiled as the grey dog yawned wide, her tongue curling upward. Minden planted her front feet on Heather’s chest and she almost fell backwards.
“You’re ready to go, eh?” She walked down the line of dogs, all standing, wagging their tails, and watching her every move. “Good boy, Nordic . . . .Ya, you too, Tundra. Taiga, you little flirt, leave Smokey alone.”
She spent a few moments with each dog, checking its feet for ice balls before re-attaching the tuglines to the backs of their harnesses. Minden started to whine. The sound trailed into a low moan and then a long howl broke out. Immediately, all the dogs threw back their heads and joined in. They stopped as suddenly as they started.
“I know, I know. I’m hurrying. Okay?” Heather glanced around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything and stepped on the runners of the sled. The dogs frothed and leaped in the air. They pawed the snow and bucked against their tugs attached to the shuddering sled. The noise of the dogs’ screams always made Heather jumpy at the start.
“Ready?” Heather yanked on the snubline that tied them to a tree and held on tight to the handlebar.
“Okay!” They lunged forward through the deep drifts until they got back to the main trail. Heather looked around nervously. Man, where’s the trail? It had only been three hours since they came through here, but the blizzard had changed the landscape. Everywhere she looked was snow. Oh, man, her dad was gonna kill her. Look how late it is; it’s gonna be dark before we make it home. Heather pedaled her foot to help push the sled.
“Good girl, Minden! Find the trail. That’s it.” Minden was Heather’s dog. She had been the one to pick Minden from the litter for sale. Heather and her dad drove five hours to get to the musher’s kennel. He had a fancy racing kennel with all the dogs staked out in rows and the puppies, round bellies, big feet, and a sweet puppy-breath smell, tussled in a pen. They bought three new puppies that day, but Minden was the star. It was Heather who had run behind her, encouraging her to pull the tire. Heather hooked her in to the three-dog team for Minden’s first run. Heather watched as Minden grew and moved up in the team to be a lead dog.
Not many dogs could be leaders. Pulling in front of everyone and learning the right and left commands was hard, but Minden was smart and she wanted to please Heather.
Heather could see Minden, nose to the ground, running ahead. Would she stay on the trail? How could she even see? Maybe she should put Nordic up with her. What was she thinking staying out so long? Heather shielded her face with a hand and watched the dogs pick through the deep snow up to their bellies. There was no sound other than the dogs panting and the sshh of the runners gliding over top.
Just as Heather was about to stop the team, the dogs perked their ears forward and pulled harder. They were intent on something ahead. Heather impatiently brushed at the thick flakes piling up on her eyelashes. She strained to see ahead, but all she saw was swirling snow. She’d be completely lost if not for Minden.
The dogs broke into a gallop. What was going on? Was it a deer on the trail? Hope it’s not a wolf. What if it’s another beaver? Heather shuddered when she thought back to the day the dogs had fought with a toothy, mean beaver next to the river.
Then she saw it. A snowmobile had flipped.
Heather let Minden run toward it and stopped the team when they were a few paces away.
“Whoa! Where’d you come from?” A willowy man in a black snowsuit looked startled as he stared at Heather and her team.
“We’re on our way home. Is something wrong?”
“We were on our way home, too, but we lost the trail in this blizzard.”
Heather stomped the snowhook down to hold the team. A woman wearing a red parka sat on the ground holding her arm.
“I think we’re still on—Minden, get down! Man, I’m sorry, she’s a little too friendly.” Heather hauled Minden off the poor man before she licked him to death. The dog had dumped him in the snow.
“If you know where you’re going, we could sure use your help. I think my wife broke her wrist when we crashed.” The man brushed himself off and knelt next to the lady.
Heather nodded. “You can follow me.” Heather’s heart suddenly felt too big for her chest as she looked down at Minden rolling in the snow.
“I’m Doug; this is Sandy.”
Heather gave them a little wave before she walked back to the sled.
Doug rolled the snowmobile and helped Sandy onto the seat. Heather stood on the sled’s runners.
“Ready?” The dogs snapped to attention. “Okay!” The dogs jumped ahead in unison.
“Good girl, Minden. Good dogs.” Minden was still on the trail, feeling the hard pack under her feet.
The snow came down so hard Heather could hardly see up the line to the leader. She was in the middle of a white wall of cold. She pulled her neck dickie up to protect her left cheek from the biting wind and wet flakes. Spruce hung heavy with snow beside her on one side, the river’s wide expanse on the other. The dusky grays of the end of the day were gaining speed. She glanced behind her and saw the light of the snowmobile cutting a path to her.
They were almost home. The darkness had crept in and Heather had to rummage in her sled bag for her headlamp. She shone it on the dogs, but the swirling snow in the air made her feel dizzy. She turned around and shone behind her to Doug and Sandy. They were still there.
Heather could see lights in the darkness ahead. The dogs ran faster. Suddenly, they were in her own backyard and her dad was striding toward her. The new puppies yowled in the pen and the adults she didn’t have with her howled a welcome. She was home.
Doug and Sandy came up behind her. Doug offered his hand to her dad and said, “Sure glad your daughter came by, Sir. She probably saved me and my wife’s life. And that dog . . . .”
Heather let a secret, proud smile creep over her face. She knelt in the snow next to Minden and their foreheads pressed together.
~The End~
Illustration Copyright © 2009 Eileen Morries
Copyright © 2009 by Terry Lynn Johnson