It let out a deep, guttural snort and surged forward—faster than Caleb thought possible. As it closed the distance, Caleb noticed a long scar running down the side of its right eye, a pale ridge against thick, wrinkled skin. The mark made the animal seem even more battle-worn—like this wasn’t the first time it had fought for something.
Its bulk scraped loudly across the ice as it lunged, tusks forward, headed straight for him. Caleb rolled onto his back, bracing for impact, sure this was it. But the walrus barreled right past him. It slid toward the spilled fish and dropped its head low, scooping up the pieces with wet, snuffling urgency.