A shadowy figure flits across the village's main thoroughfare; darkened windows hold candles that were extinguished hours ago.
It halts before a particular door, sniffing around the jamb.
A growling sound emanates from its empty stomach.
There's an infant in this house, It thinks, smacking its pallid lips.
Infants are best.
Taking care to remain silent, it turned the doorknob; the opened door creaked slightly.
The child's scent grew more potent as it stepped into the main room.
It howled in agony, as a silvery, moonlit blade cut through the darkness, wounding the creature deeply.
There'd be no dinner... tonight.