Bearclaw Valley it's whatever you say it is

The next chapter slid open with a devilish grin, and Ico absorbed it with wide brown eyes. Although he greatly admired Fields, the knight with the uneasy smile, there had been something off about him, something extra-interesting in a manner unsuitable for children; and Merrick exuded that impression tenfold. So fascinated was Ico by the strangeness and newness of this, he felt distant from it — a reader, not a participant. And thus he found himself unaware of the danger he was in. He was low, submissive, but failed to wither or flee.

I can see why that might free you, sir... he murmured thoughtfully. The mother was a character in a story, a villain and a victim both. Merrick's perspective was paramount, because he was tangible. The same could be said for Fields. Ico gave a tiny nod to the latter, a beat of understanding and agreement; it's a ruthless world. Sometimes we're lucky enough not to have to kill for nourishment or rights or a place to stay put... but sometimes we have to, or die ourselves.

At this particular moment, Ico was the storyteller. Had he been a character in that story, it would be evident he was not a killer. He was one of those who died.

And I understand there are other reasons to kill as well. And other reasons to die. The timid fellow addressed this to the Alpha, glancing briefly in the direction of that x-ray eye.