Sequoia Coast the seal hunters

If you are serious about hunting a seal, you wait for it to come to the realm, where it is the most vulnerable. Above water. On ice. Or a beach. A more preferable option, actually. There they are slow, awkward and almost incapable of defending themselves. 

Underwater, under ice - that's their kingdom, where they reign. No longer bumbling and clumsy. Agile and elegant creatures, that move through the darkness of the waters with ease. They can hear sounds from long distances away. And their whiskers allow them to sense movement and disturbances in the water well, without even seeing the source.

Tiden had been hanging out with a small group of young seals. None were overly friendly with other, drawn to the area, because fish were plentiful here. When they had had their fill they would haul out on the ice and rest. Further away the ocean was not frozen, but here they would swim up to the hole to breathe in time from time. 

There was a splash, when something heavy fell in the water, sending waves in every direction, scaring fish and with only the seals remaining and waiting. Tiden as the oldest swam closer to investigate and was met with the same spindly-legged, scraggly shore-seal he had spied on few days earlier elsewhere. He circled the alien wide, then dove beneath him and bumped his muzzle against its belly.