Sequoia Coast the seal hunters

Tiden circled the odd, spindle-legged creature, while it thrashed and snapped and fought against the water, wanting to achieve something that the seal could not fathom. He saw the glint of the bared fangs and the whites of the eyes that were all too small to see properly in the world he called his home. Their gazes met for a moment, when he swam upwards to face the stranger, and he swiftly evaded the attempted grab in his direction. Amused by the antics, he turned to swim paralell to the intruder, brushing his side against the other's and then again remaining close enough for his presence to be felt, but not near enough for the stranger to grab him effortlessly.

The world you are born in and which shapes you makes a difference. Tiden had learned the ways of the water from the moment, when he had been weaned and left to fend for himself. The first attempts to befriend the liquid, cold and dark world had been difficult, but soon he had embraced it and become one with it. Now - nearly three decades later - he was one with his home. Swimming, gliding, diving, turning and twisting, dancing and hunting in the water came as natural as running did for the bretheren that lived on the ground. The idea was simple - you did not fight against the water. You went with the flow. But it seemed that the underwater guest did not know that. Perhaps, he would learn, if properly encouraged. 

Tiden approached the stranger and attempted to grab hold of his hind-paw.