Caleb lay frozen, too afraid to breathe. Inches away, the massive creature huffed and smacked its lips as it swallowed the last of the fish. He couldn’t move. One wrong twitch and he’d be under it. The walrus paused, steam rising off its hide.
Then, slowly, it turned its head and looked directly at him again. Caleb didn’t dare move. The walrus loomed over him now, its slick body radiating heat in the freezing air. Bits of fish clung to its whiskers as it stared, unmoving. Caleb tried not to blink, afraid even the smallest twitch would provoke it. Then, without warning, the walrus let out a short, sharp bark.
It reared slightly—only by a few inches—but the motion sent a jolt of panic through Caleb’s chest. Was it warning him? Threatening? Or just… reacting? He didn’t know. Walruses weren’t like seals or bears. Their behavior on land was harder to read. The animal shifted forward again, flippers slapping against the snow. Caleb tensed, expecting it to charge.
But instead, it stopped beside his bag and pawed at it roughly. A container of ice markers popped loose and scattered across the ice. The walrus snorted and followed one as it rolled. Caleb slowly turned his head, watching it track the object like a curious dog.