One of the men tossed something into a barrel fire. Another stood near a crate, rifle slung over his back. Caleb’s eyes moved carefully across the camp, scanning between tents and gear. That’s when he saw it. A metal cage.
It was tucked behind a stack of supplies, partially covered with a tarp. But inside—shaking, small, and barely moving—was a walrus calf. Its skin was marked with frost and a red tag on its flipper. Its eyes, wide and tired, blinked slowly as it let out a soft, muffled squeal.