The street will offer the best avenue for hunting, you decide. You might be older than the average trick-or-treater, but otherwise no one should bat an eye if they manage seeing you skulking in the shadows so long as it’s not with someone’s legs vanishing down the hatch.
You’re not much into sports normally, but in your current state running is the fastest way to move about, though you try your best not to do it on all fours. That might make the disguise a little bit too genuine, and you’d rather play the hunter than the hunted tonight. For the same reason you don’t go for your home street but pick a smaller one towards the edge of town. It’s a lovely short ride consisting of around a dozen houses, not the richest but not the poorest either, with great mables lining the road, casting deep shadows. You couldn’t ask for more.
It’s early evening so there’s plenty of people on the move, mostly in groups. Everyone’s having a good time; you can smell the middle class happiness in the air. Still, even if the flock has its guard down, you shouldn’t be too careless picking your prey. This is your first time after all.
After some consideration, one option rises above the rest: Misses Woods of number four. She’s a mother of two in her late thirties, a small and energetic woman whom you’ve seen jogging around the town any number of times. She’d be a comfortably minor step up from the tomcat since she’s alone for the holiday, her husband having taken the kids to grandparents in the city. You know this because you happened to overhear a discussion about it the other day. The only problem is the family’s dog, a mighty golden retriever that might easily sniff you out if you’re not careful.
