Haunted Wood I don't want your crowd

the woman gestures for her to go ahead, and Hela is motionless a moment before finally complying, slinking forward as her mother had taught her. it becomes obvious why the female sends her first; the undergrowth and thick and she is small, used to navigating the same kind of terrain. 

it is only when she comes within striking distance that she hesitates, glancing back instinctively. she half-expects the face of her mother, and grief washes over her suddenly, painfully. gritting her teeth, she refocuses on the bird, hearing cass' voice, now. focus. only strike when you are completely confident in her kill, daughter. tongue darts out to pass over her lips, and the grouse rustles its feathers. a long moment passes, it pecks at something on the ground. and then Hela moves, the same viper-fast speed she'd use in a fight, or to harass moonshadow's children. this time, she does not aim for the face; her fangs latch in the bird's breast, and she whips the thing around her head, it's scream whistling past her ear and then the crack of its neck, feathers falling all around the pair.