Katniss Everdeen she is not.

In the dense fog of morning, her Crocs glide silently undetected through the wet rye. Senses keen, she pauses - almost indiscernibly - to side-eye the sound of a dog leash as a puppy corners a turn onto her block.

After a motionless scan of her periphery, it becomes apparent that man nor beast will sway her conviction from the object of her desire.

She pads on slowly. Silently. . .

A mere 10 feet from the rare species, as any seasoned huntress would, she inconspicuously..
 
..throws up her hands and yells, "Gooood mawwwnin bunny! He eatin' bweakfast!"