Bearclaw Valley bear with me

Ico remained alone atop the craggy little hill on the riverside as the embers of disquiet became the flames of brawl. If bid or (somehow) needed, he would've gladly joined the fray and done his best, but truthfully he was woefully unqualified and would only get in the way. So he stood fast and dipped his head low to watch, russet eyes moving this way and that to keep track of what was happening; that way he could at least yell "look out behind you!" if required.

He did not stand like a wolf who'd just unleashed the hounds of war, for the purpose of his howl had evidently not been to suggest bloodshed. He had simply been deferring to his superiors, requesting their better judgement. And Ico had already learned that Ursus judgement was swift — and could be as brutal as a plummeting eagle.