Bearclaw Valley it's whatever you say it is

From an early age Ico had learned that smiles weren't all joy and humour. He'd received pitying smiles, eye-rolling smiles, dear-god-how-is-this-kid-still-alive smiles.

Merrick's smile was amused, curious, introspective, all at once. But there was also a hint of cruelty to it, as he elected not to altogether reassure Ico, but to instead make note that his sacrifice theory had not been too far off. The pale youth had no idea what to say to that, but his eyes widened upon the ground, watching a piece of dead grass rustle in a passing breeze.

At the mention of Fields, Ico chanced a brief glance up at him. He didn't know what to make of that smile. And no reassurance was forthcoming, so Ico took a breath, trying not to cower as Merrick's shadow melted over him.

My name's Ico, sir. Just a lone wolf. Fields found me up North, about five days. We shared our stories, and he was very kind. I was... am very intrigued by Fields's description of this group, especially as I love to hear and tell the stories of many varied people. I thought I might... I thought I might get to meet some interesting characters here, he finished a little bashfully.