Grouse Thicket Fool and King, Ghoul and Goose

@Tywyll hopefully this is readable; having some issues concentrating on postwriting this evening. @.@; Even more so than usual, please do feel free poke me for anything I need to clarify in here!

Nynka wound in and out among the thorny vines as her shining bright eyes and quivering nose were flicked restlessly to and fro, alert for the first hint that the grouses were getting closer. She licked her lips and twitched her ears as she slipped carefully through the next tangled patch of undergrowth. Her long form slithered through like a long, fuzzy brown snake, and her restless seeking head appeared snakily charmed by the alluring scent of the well-fed birds, who had been growing sleeker and smugger all summer on the feasts the season offered. But it was time to ruin their streak of safety, so far as Nynka was concerned. Hungry weasels ought to be a much higher priority than the safety and comfort of a featherbrained bunch of grouse, after all.
 
First, though, she’d have to find them. She had bounded her way across a fair expanse of land, hunting whatever the environment offered and her whims dictated along the way, but grouse were a new find—and from the scent of it, they were quite thick here. And even though Nynka had ingested a perfectly fine fieldmouse earlier that morning, her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled now as she scented the covey of fine fat birds. And now that she at last spotted one in the next clearing over with its wide fluffy rump turned in her direction, her eyes glittered scornfully as she hunched into a stalking pose and crept over the last array of spikes laid in her way. There were half a dozen of the stupid grouse scattered about, twittering and bobbing as they pecked at gravel and small bugs—not one of them had taken advantage of their wings to put themselves safely up out of her reach! Really, what was the point of being a bird if one was going to stay rooted to the ground each day? The idiot things had best be more careful, Nynka thought, or their wings would wither away and drop off entirely, soon. And who better to help teach them such a lesson than she herself. She grinned fiercely and with a warlike screech leapt for the exposed speckled-brown feathered neck of the nearest bird. The whole flock was suddenly in a tizzy at the maneuver, squawking and flapping in a panic and finally lifting off into the air, except for the shrieking one for whom it was a little too late.