Bearclaw Valley bear with me

Small, fey Ico certainly looked like a coward; and indeed he was no brazen knight. But on the other hand, it was possible for this boy to feel so intrigued, so curious, that he might — albeit for a moment — put his life on the line. So it was with this bear-who-was-not-a-bear. As his scent reached the riverbank and the water's surface calmed enough to bring the stranger's visage into sharp relief, Ico saw a male who could rival Merrick for presence and power. Yet this one was wilder still, smirking like a hungry bandit come to devour the teddy bear's picnic.

Although the white wolf's ears flickered downwards, successfully intimidated, he stood tall and stiff — ready to howl for Ursus warriors in a moment's notice. But he would give this dark stranger that moment; the briefest moment to give a reason as to why all this needn't end in bloodshed (though it did seem inevitable that it would). The creature did not carry any obvious air or scent of a pack member, but it was possible Merrick had either sent him or otherwise marked him as an ally. He did seem the sort of man Merrick would recruit. In this one, fascinating, fleeting moment where anything could happen, Ico searched for a story.

You don't look lost... he observed softly, brown eyes wide. At least not in the physical sense.