The humans in this part of Midgard have something they call National Night Out. In theory, people are supposed to venture out after dark, meet their neighbors, have block parties, and whatnot. Except in practice, it doesn’t work that way. Most of the country celebrates in the summer, but many towns in this state said, "Hel, no" to a night out in August because 1) it can still be 98 degrees at 10 p.m. and 2) MOSQUITOES which carry six different kinds of plague. The local humans observed their NNO last night.
Sigyn and I went out after supper. (The humans could not be bothered to shift their padded behinds from their padded sofas.) October not withstanding, it was still mightily warm and muggy, and there were MOSQUITOES large enough to carry Sigyn away. There seemed to be a large-ish, very noisy, child-riddled party down the street a bit. Repelled by both the loud music/squealing and a miasmic aroma of the horrible sausage humans call a "hot dog" (Do not tell me what is in them. I do not want to know,) my beloved and I decided to stick closer to home.
On the front step, we found a silvery wiggle that glistened under the porch light.
At first I thought it was some sort of magical sign or sigil left by a rival sorcerer, but closer inspection proved it to be of molluscan origin. I think one of the speedier advance scouts from the snaily army I recruited over the weekend has arrived, though he has not yet contacted me. Perhaps he will report for orders tomorrow.