It's a quiet evening.
Silver Vixen has gone to meet with her coven. As we speak, she and her cohorts are sweeping through the skies to Worthing and probably harassing any poor sould not carrying a cross or neclace of garlic.
Huge cauldrons of herbal infusions (tea) will be brewed, and no doubt there'll be a great deal of cackling, and a little sewing.
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