Shadewood my, what big teeth i have

She would work, deliberately and delicately. Though the carcass was not alive, nor was the crow any longer, there was a certain degree of care involved. Should she wish to work on the ritual, she would need to treat the bones and body with respect to use it.

Quietly removing the deer ribs as if the ivory man was not there, she would place them next to the crow's body. With the heart of the doe - miraculously untouched by the birds and other predators - removed as well, she would bundle it together with the rest. Then, and only then, did the spook turn.

She saw the frame of the man on the snow and ignored him. Her pale gaze sought another place. Plucking the bundle carefully, she would walk to a spot a few paces away from him. She placed the items and began to craft a makeshift altar from fallen sticks. Merely gathering them into a pile.

It was silent work. She could speak to him, but she only hummed softly to herself. Running the instructions in her mind or singing a tune. Her voice spoke in another language.