Bearclaw Valley it's whatever you say it is

Unexpectedly, Ico had attracted a travelling companion; one who cast him in shadow in more ways than one. It took Ico a while to get used to the novelty of his good fortune, but there was plenty to distract him from the reality that even this good thing must at some point come to an end.

Fields, the towering hunter that Ico thought of as a ranging knight, had led the way South from the great boulder striken in two. Over the coming days, they'd ventured down into a snowy valley, through fields of scattered, skeletal trees, across meandering rivers, and through woodlands that reminded him a little of Walnut Grove. They even skirted round the scent of a pack border, and Ico had gazed curiously across the way as they did so.

When they finally slowed in a manner that felt conclusive, and not just a temporary pause for rest or lunch, Ico felt his heart beat an excited rhythm against his chest. He was apprehensive, but most of all he was curious. He looked up at Fields, whose tales and traits he'd come to absorb over the passing days. "I've never seen a place like this", he breathed, white ears flattening a little as he readied himself for further company.

But some of the scents on the breeze were not of pine or wolf or savoury snack. He returned his gaze searchingly to the landscape. "Bearclaw Valley... would I be silly to hope you call it that just because it looks like a bear's claw...?" The alternative was scary as heck. Ico had never seen a bear before, but he had heard horror stories.