The tabby turns at the sound of your pawsteps. "Hello," she greets curtly. "Are you here about the pumpkin carving?" You nod affirmatively.
"Hmm," the molly hums, seeming disappointed, though you're not sure at what. "Sign-ups and rulebook are over there." She gestures with her tail at a nearby table. "Be sure to be a good sport; apparently that's like 'important to the spirit of the carnival' or something. You can buy one of our pumpkins for the competition, or bring one of your own -- though I've no idea where you'll find one. Feel free to come to me if you have any questions, I suppose. My name's Bramblethorn, by the way."
And with that, Bramblethorn returns to her work. You're not sure what put her in such a dismissive mood, but a quick glance over her head reveals the answer. A small poster hangs on one of the wooden light posts, reading "BANNED -- from entering all future competitions" with an image of Bramblethorn attached. Looks like someone wasn't a very good sport.
Regardless, pumpkin carving sounds fun, and you're not about to let one grumpy staff member ruin your whole carnival. With a shrug, you brush the interaction from your mind and bounce over to check out the sign-up table.
