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Thanks for following The Wand that Rocks the Cradle! Today’s excerpt is from a story by Misha Burnett, in which a family clinging to its old ways and old magic confronts a prodigal son who wants to live his own life. Enjoy!

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At the old fuel station off the highway Jenni went in to get some snacks for the road.

Marc stayed with the truck and had the attendant fill the two jerry cans he kept in the back as well as the truck’s tank.

“Headed up country?” the attendant asked, using an expression Marc hadn’t heard in years.

Marc nodded. “I’ve got folk in Carne Shant.”

“Not as bad as it used to be,” the attendant observed. “There’s stations up in the delves now.”

“I’d rather be prepared,” Marc said. “Better to spend wisdom than earn it.”

The attendant grinned at that. “Old church?” he asked.

Marc shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Jenni came back with warm fudge wrapped in waxed paper and bottles of ginger soda.

Marc paid the attendant as Jenni climbed in, then waved as he drove off.

“Friendly people,” Jenni said.

“They can be,” Marc observed.

“Funny thing…” Jenni began, giving Marc a sidelong glance, “There was a sign at the register about not taking coins unless they’re rolled. The last place we stopped had the same sign. What’s that all about?”

“Old church,” Marc said absently. “They don’t use paper money.”

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