She Runs with Wolves
The other spell bag had been larger, and, rather than a little sun and moon charm, it had been tied off with a pentacle.
“Isn’t that the sign of the Devil?” I’d frowned, holding the bag cautiously on the base of both palms.
Rowan had rolled her eyes. “No,” she’d said firmly, with the air of someone teaching a very young child something incredibly basic. “That’s a common misconception. Upside down, it’s the sign of the goat. Much like everything else, even down to Christmas trees, the Christians stole from the Pagans, and turned the beauty of the religion into something dark and scary and barbaric.”
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