The Vegetable Heist
The witch casually folded the napkin over his basket of freshly harvested vegetables, stood up, stretched, and released the universal noise of comfort found in a day’s physical labor as it comes to an end. Whistling a tune older than names, he reached down and picked up the lime green patchwork of wicker, cotton, and rawhide.
The weight was wrong. And he instantly knew why.
Tearing back the cloth, he gazed in horror at the pile of paperwork — a receipt for theft and a declaration that more would be forthcoming.
He glanced up and, with narrowed eyes, glared with amusement and angst at the forest line. The small group of rabbits gazed emotionlessly back. The lead bun raised a purple paw in a salute, though it was impossible to discern sincerity from mocking. Soundlessly, the kindle of rabbits melted into the forest, disappearing instantly.