It nudged the marker with its tusk, then slammed a flipper down hard enough to crack the surface underneath. A sharp sound rang out. The ice popped beneath them. Both of them stilled. A long fracture spidered out in the silence.
Caleb’s blood ran cold. They were too far from shore—and if the ice gave way now, there’d be no getting out. The walrus let out a low, strange groan. Not aggressive. Not calm. Just… strange. Then it turned again, moving away from Caleb in an awkward, shifting crawl.