Bearclaw Valley it's whatever you say it is

Even first-time visitors to Bearclaw valley will notice a curious smell in the air as soon as they approach: that is, of course, the smell of bears going on about their lives. Bear feces, bear piss, bear blood. But they'll grow used to it, just as a coal miner gets used to dust in his lungs.
Taylor, in his customary way, asks a rhetorical question without the intonation. You're pretty quick, ain't you. Anyone could make a hell of a story out of a city run by bears. Even he knows this.
His smile only grows when he sees Merrick; he's in danger of splitting his head in two. Turning back, he gestures at Ico expectantly. Ico could introduce himself better than Taylor ever could— blow any story he could spin up out of the water. He steps back, twiddling his thumbs. Tapping his big toe.