The scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread hung heavy in the air, a comforting blanket against the morning chill. Steam curled from a chipped ceramic mug, warming a pair of cupped hands. "Did you hear about poor Mr. Abernathy?" A sigh. "The prize-winning pumpkins? He's devastated, I imagine." "More than that. They say someone deliberately… sabotaged them. Sliced them right through the middle, just days before the Harvest Festival." "That's just cruel. Who would do such a thing?" "That's what everyone's asking, isn't it? Sheriff Brody was down there earlier, looking grim." "Well, he'll have his work cut out. Mr. Abernathy doesn't exactly have a long list of enemies, but he *does* have a reputation for being… prickly about his patch." "Prickly enough to inspire pumpkin assassination?" A quiet chuckle. "Stranger things have happened in Oakhaven." "I suppose they have. Still, it feels… personal."