Chapter 2: Chapter 2
A strange exultation filled him. At long last,I’m really here.Ever since childhood he’d dreamed about the frozen northlands, absorbed the books of Jack London, Bud and Constance Helmericks, and others who had lived the adventures. Of course, everything was more modern now, but all the technology in the world would not change the harsh reality of the snow, the cold, the wind. The stark, unfriendly environment defied humans to adapt. He expected that would always be the same.
He’d dreamed of and worked hard for this day. Armed with several cameras and a ruggedized notebook computer, he was ready to cover the races leading up to and including the famous Iditarod. If all went well, he’d be staying to do more journalistic coverage of sports and other activities in the northernmost state. This was the career and locale he had chosen, both as remote as possible from the Burbank-located family law firm and related accounting enterprise, which he hated with a fierce passion.
A bit later in his hotel room, which boasted satellite TV and high-speed internet, he almost forgot where he was, but as he watched the local news, a flood of reminders came to him. The local reporter spoke to several of the contestants starting the Season Kick-Off Race in two days’ time. One was a bearded giant of a man who looked like a great golden bear with his hirsute face and the bulk Grey was sure would be impressive even without the puffy parka.
The man’s name tweaked his curiosity. What kind of a man would be named Dylan Norgard? The first name was clearly Celtic, while the surname sounded Nordic. Dylan carried connotations of a poet or an artist, not a rugged, rustic outdoorsman, but Norgard brought the vision of Viking warriors laughing at the cold. Grey laughed to himself for his fancies.
Then his breath hitched and his heart stuttered. For a long instant, the camera zoomed in for a close-up of Dylan’s craggy face. His deep-set eyes seemed to gaze directly into Grey’s for a couple of heartbeats. They must be blue given the frosted golden color of his hair, but if blue, they were such a dark hue they appeared black. The musher smiled at some remark of the reporter’s that Grey didn’t hear, then the big man’s face went stern again. Grey shook his head.
“No, we’ve never won, but I think we have a good chance this year. My new lead pair are exceptional dogs and the rest are worthy to follow them, trained up and ready. It’s in the hands of fate, though, as always. All we can do is give the run our best effort and pray that’s good enough.”
As the camera’s roving eye shifted to another of the entrants, Grey made a personal vow to seek out Dylan Norgard the next day. There was something about the big man that reached out to him on a bottomless, visceral level, something he knew he had to explore.
* * * *
Dylan went through the ritual of checking in, having set up his drops and making the rest of the required preparations in the preceding days. He’d been doing this for five seasons now, two as a Dog Warriors rep, then two on his own the last two years. He’d started with the smaller and shorter races, and now approached the big one. If he completed the preliminary mid-distance races well, he’d go for the Iditarod
The Iditarod was the Grand Prix, the America’s Cup, the World Series, and the Super Bowl all rolled into one as far as mushers went. There was nothing like it in the world. At first, he hadn’t realized how addictive this sport would be, but he’d found in it a home and a purpose. Coming out of a bad PTSD case spawned by back-to-back tours in Iraq as a Special Forces soldier, he hadn’t known what he should do. Somewhere he heard about the Dog Warriors project and followed it to Alaska. When even that got a too-crowded feeling, he moved to where he had solitude to lick his healing wounds. But the sled dogs had given him a reason to live. Now he was into mushing for life, dedicated to a sport that had totally absorbed him.
Freya and Thor were, without a doubt, the best lead dogs he’d ever worked. It took a whole team, but the lead pair was the keystone. They had to be indisputable leaders, obeyed without question and totally respected by the rest of the pack. Half-siblings, the two shared a common mother and had been whelped a year apart. Dylan owned the bitch that had produced them both. She’d been the best part of his first team. He still loved and admired her competitive spirit, her stamina, and her heart, but had retired her after an injury limited her ability to work.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone