No, none of that now, Handy, you were only going to make yourself hungrier. It had been over a week – don’t make the pangs any worse. He had taken one of the pumpkins himself, not too big of a one, and wrapped it in some old dusty sheets. He kept his distance from any windows as he stalked through the streets. The town wasn’t that big, at most a thousand souls in all with the winding, zigzag random street pattern of an old settlement that had grown up over the centuries rather than being planned. It was easy to get lost in it if you didn’t stick to the main streets. He used the landmarks such as a steepled bell tower and a particularly large watchtower at the western wall to get his bearings while keeping a wary eye on the windows of the quiet homes. That said, it had taken him over an hour to find the house he was looking for. At first he wasn’t sure he had the right place, but sure enough it was the right building. How could he be sure? Because there was an honest to God post box near the rusted front gate proclaiming it as the Neighson residence.