Caleb exhaled in relief, thinking it was finally leaving. He took a step in the opposite direction, toward home. The walrus stopped. It let out a sharp, barking grunt, loud enough to make Caleb flinch. He froze mid-step and looked back.
The walrus stared at him again, head low, tusks gleaming. It snorted once, then resumed crawling forward—still westward, dragging its body across the snow like it had somewhere to be. Caleb hesitated.
That couldn’t have been a coincidence. He waited a few seconds, then tried again, angling his path toward the ridge that led back to the cabin. Another bark—louder, more urgent. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“Are you serious right now?” he muttered. The walrus had paused again, looking back at him, waiting. This was ridiculous. He was letting a walrus tell him where to go? But when he tried to walk away a third time, the bark came again—followed by a louder, guttural grunt that echoed across the flat ice.