Bearclaw Valley Why is the raven like a writing desk?

set for late evening, 19 F

The old altar had been of special interest to the bruin-heart. She knew it had belonged to the former queen of Ursus, and Arielle couldn't let it sit, covered in snow and dirt. 

She finally understood how she could honor Astara, and she had spent much of her time since returning, cleaning the stone and decorating it with things of her own—things that represented her connection to the bear.

During one of her patrols, a raven had dropped dead and fallen from a tree to land right in front of her. It had been a sign, one she couldn't understand yet. So the healer had placed it on the altar to decay. She found the skull of a rabbit while cleaning out one of the caches and had placed it on the altar too. 

On the first night she had slept in the valley, Arielle had dreamed of a mother bear. She followed her for miles until they came to the mouth of a giant cave. Inside were two bear cubs and at the entrance was a wolf, ripped to shreds. Its blood ran over the stone, painting it with a symbol. Instantly, she knew it was significant. The mother bear had dipped her paw in the blood and then touched Arielle's flank, leaving a bloody print behind. When the healer had woken, she had gathered sticks and placed them in the form of the symbol directly in the middle of the altar. 

A garland made from thin branches and dried elder leaves was draped across the altar. Arielle felt at peace when the scent filled her nose, which helped her connect to the bear. There were still more things to be found and dedicated here, but the bruin-heart was pleased with how it had come along so far.

The half moon spread it's soft glow across the altar tonight, and Arielle sat in front of it with her eyes closed as she tried to interpret the sign of the fallen raven. The icy breeze blew flakes across her back, but she had tuned out all feeling.