Bearclaw Valley bear with me

Deep down, a little part of his consciousness wriggled with glee that the beast opted to speak (and with such an accent!) — for it was mainly through speech that the greatest stories were told. But Ico had been holding out for something very unlikely: to unravel the inevitably fascinating tales behind this loner's everlit eyes, he'd have to be an ally to Ursus and one disinclined to attempt terrorism. But the stars did not align here. And so the briefest attempt at storytime was over. Imagining, even fleetingly, that the situation could be otherwise was the most irrational thing Ico would do today.

For all his flaws (and there were a lot of them), Ico was at least agile, and sprung nimbly away from the nipping white teeth. Quickly, he leapt up lightly onto the craggy hill by the river to give himself an iota more time as he sent a cool, urgent howl skywards — trespasser!

The call was directed to @Merrick or @Taylor, but grasping of any Ursus warrior with a gleam of action as bright as the crazed light in the trespasser's eyes.