Probably black and red pepper and salt, it's not like she'd have a kitchen in there.

"Here, ah got some pepper 'n some salt if'n ya care fer it, might help it."

Not yet, I want him to ask for it.

Laughs at Darkness is quiet. He seems...expectant. He continues stirring the soup.

"Would ye like some?"

""hehhehhehhehhehHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhahahahahaaaa!" The old man cackles. He launches into quite a long laughing jag.

When he finally gets himself under control, he nods. "Yes, I would indeed. But that was not smart, Ranger. You just used up your last question on salt for our supper. AND I still have one question yet to ask you. Not smart, ranger. Not smart at all."

"Oh fer th' love of Pete, only reason ah didn't offer you none first was ya just asked if'n ah had it.  Ah's tryin' ta be neighborly an' do yer... whatever this is here... an' yer actin' like a jackass!  If'n that's being smart I'll be a dumbass 'n like it!"

"Yes, and it was smart that you caught that, but this is not a contest where being neighborly and polite wins you any points!" the old man cackles. The coyote eyes in his hood glitter in the firelight. "Oh, you would, would you? I could arrange that, you know. But the stakes we are playing for are very high. So, I propose a wager. We will start again, only you get two questions to my two. And if I manage to trick you again by making you speak before you think, you'll be Dumbass and have to like it. If you win, I'll be extra nice and give you something helpful to use. Now hand over that salt, the stew is burning. Or go on down the tunnel, with only one question answered."

She handed him the salt.  "If'n it might save them folks, Dumbass'll do."

"Well, I never did doubt your bravery or willingness to put yourself in danger for others." The shaman says, taking the salt and the pepper too and using pinches of them in the stew. "Only your smarts." he sips the stew. "Better. If you are hungry, let me know, and I'll ladel you some."

"Thank ye kindly.  But ah'm might nervous, don't think ah can think ta eat."

"As you will." The shaman says, and ladles himself a generous bowl of the stuff. It smells pretty good, all things considered, and it has been some time since Wildcat ate last. Laughs at Darkness takes to the food with gusto, seeming to relish the taste of the stew as he contemplate his next question. Then he raises the flute to his lips and begins to play.

some mood music

He pauses, though the music seems to hang in the air, everywhere and yet nowhere.

"In your breast, there are three wolves." He says. "One is white, one is dark, one is grey."

"The white one, she was a pretty thing once. She sings prayers and psalms, and wants to live in harmony with all around her and does not with to take offense where no offense is intended. She will only fight when it is right to do so, to protect others, to see the innocent come to no harm."

"The dark wolf, she is full of anger. She fights everyone, all the time, for reasons she makes up to ease her conscience and allow her to feel justified in her anger and hate. This wolf, she bites when she does not need to, kills fathers and friends in vengeance, scares little children. She cannot think because her anger is so great."

"The grey wolf, she is proud. Her coat is silver, and she wants so much for that silver pelt to be her mark on the world. She has given up much for her silver coat--family, mother, a den, a mate. This wolf worries all the time about her legacy, about her honor, and fears that maybe the silver was not worth the struggle."

"And so the three wolves fight. All the time, they struggle in your heart, until you feel as if it would burst in your chest. All three try to be the one to come out on top."

He plays a little while more on his flute, letting her ponder his statement. Then he sets the flute aside.

"My question to you: which wolf will win?"

She leaned back, well as much as she could on that little perch anyway.

“Dang feller, ya really cut to th’ quick on that one, ya know.  Ain’t a lot of fun ta hear it that way.  But least that ain’t a hard question, not no more.  Ya ain't tellin' th' whole story.

“First ya forgot them wolfs, they gotta eat.  And then ya didn’t mention there’s a fourth wolf.  But he's kindy new to th' pack.  Th’ fourth wolf, he’s a yeller ‘un, but he ain’t yeller like no scaredy cat, he’s what ya might call kind of gold, sorta like one of them yeller dogs.  An’ that there wolf, he knows ‘em other three are all kinda dumbasses.  An’ really th’ yeller wolf ought be th’ one that wins out, but he can’t take on all three, only two at a time.

“So that’s how it goes.  He keeps two of ‘em at bay, and he lets th’ third alone, but since they’s always fightin’, th’ one that ain’t gotta fight goes and hunts and gnaws th’ bones.  Once that wolf has ate up enough, he drags that one into th’ fray an tosses th’ other out.

“Ah hope one day those three dumbasses wolfs’ll realize that yeller one is actually in charge, cuz he decides which one ta send huntin’.  An' the dern thing is, if'n he don't reg-ah-late 'em, they's too stupid an' will jus' keep a fightin' til they all die of starvation.  And if’n they just a keep fightin’ each other, that yeller one, well he’ll starve ta death eventually.  He’s gotta come to the front an’ hunt sometimes too.

”They don't got ta oblige each 'nother none, but they gotta learn to mind that yeller one, or all them wolfs jus' gon' starve ta death."

"I forget nothing, except..." Laughs At Darkness starts, then stops.

For quite a while.

Quite a long while.

It's starting to grow uncomfortable.

Then...

It's more uncomfortable.

But just before Wildcat can say anything to break the silence, he says. "Hmm. Smart enough. Interesting that you would give Wakan Tanka a role in this and remove your choices in which wolf to feed. But very well. Ask your next question."

"Oh tha's jus' it, ah dunno if'n that yeller wolf is ol' Wanka Tanya or if'n it's jus' an ol' feller I fergot about.

"Whassat best way ta stop that shaman tryin' ta conjur' up that' Big 'Ol Snake?"

"I see, said the blind man to his deaf dog." Laughs at Darkness says with a chuckle. "Well. Pale Moon needs souls to power his ritual." The Shaman says. "He sent his men to take people from the town and the ranch, and being them to him to sacrifice on a stone altar over Mirror Serpent's nest. They failed, but he still has men to sacrifice."

"Pale Moon has a magic painting that holds the souls of his warriors. If the picture is destroyed, the souls will be released, and all the warriors will die. Then Pale Moon will have the souls he needs to wake Mirror Serpent. If the picture is taken from him, and a cleansing ritual performed, the magic will end, and the souls will be returned to the warriors, who will then be alive again. If the picture is destroyed, and the warriors are within the mines, their souls will be drawn into the Ghost Rock whether the ritual is finished or not. If that happens..."

Suddenly, Laughs at Darkness leaps up and screams.

"KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

He sits back down. "So don't do that. Get the picture away from him, interrupt him so he has to start again, or kill him. Those are your best options. Ponder this, while I consider your last question."

Ghost.  Rock.  Mine.

Kaboom?

Oh this was Bad.

Suddenly all of Katrina's other problems seemed miniscule by comparison.

The shaman is quiet for quite a while. The he stands, and begins danceing. he doesn't make a sound, he just moves, leaps, moves, leaps, sways, leaps, and moves. Wildcat has no idea just what the heck he's doing.

But she watches intently, trying to see if there's a pattern or a dance to it, or if it reminds her of anything.

There's a pattern, all right, but it doesn't seem to be anything more than a particularly elaborate rain dance. Eventually, the shaman stops, and sits. He takes a few breaths.

"Darn." He says. "I was really hoping you'd fall for it this time. Now I actually have to think up a question."

He rocks back and forth, then begins giggling.

He looks at Wildcat. "If I were to ask you the question you'd least like me to ask you, what would your answer be? Be truthful now."

The Ranger looked at him with anger flaring in her eyes, but her body didn't twitch.

"That there's downright low, ya flea munchin varmint. But it ain't hard."

Extending her legs, she moved her feet, giving her boots the appearance of rotation.  He was a low down snake in the grass.  This sucked to say out loud, it was something she'd tried to swallow and never regurgitate.

So much for that.  Her voice was small but audible.  It was probably the voice of that white wolf he was going on about.

"Jacob or Diana.  Dependin', ah reckon."

"I see." The old shaman says, surprisingly gently. "Very Well. Ask you final question, and receive your name."

The Ranger mused this over, but she couldn't tarry for too long... then it came to her.

"What'n ought ah do, right here momentarily if'n right now, ah wanna be th' dad burn smartest cowpoke ta ever put on a pair o' boots an' walk 'em o'er God's green Earth?"

""hehhehhehhehhehHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhahahahahaaaa!" The old shaman laughs. He continues laughing for a while.

"Hee, pack up and run, run, run for the hills!" He giggles. "But that's not really what you're going to do, so do this instead. Take this rope," he points at the rope leading into the crack in the ground, "and mind the gap. Follow the halls to the cave-in and watch for snakes. Find the group within. Tell the Irishman what I have told you about the picture, and how destroying it will doom you all unless it is done right. Follow the rails AND the Ghost Rock to the silver lode...you can avoid the nest that way, and there is a secret tunnel to Mirror Serpent's slumbering lair. Sneak very very quiet through the lair...Pale Moon will not expect it unless the alarm is raised, and will be less guarded. Do not reason with the shaman--he is beyond reason. But Ghost Wolf is not, and if he is in charge, he will take his men far, far away. If you would kill Mirror Serpent, look very carefully about his nest for the things the Old Ones left behind, then have Ward open a way to the Hunting Grounds and confront him there, then use what you have been told to slay him. That way, the Ghost Rock will be there for the people of town to use. If you would rather let him sleep, well, Ward can do so, but then the mines must be sealed for all time, and the fortune lost, which is bad because the herd must also be killed. That will be good for the world, bad for the town. The choice is up to those below. If all goes very, very wrong, only the thunderhawk in the tin angel can stop Mirror Serpent. Releasing her will be very, very, very dangerous for all involved, but by that point it may be the only thing left."

"You are Wakan Tanka's messenger now, Wildcat. Go." The shaman waves her away. And as he says the name "Wildcat," Katrina Hawkins realizes that it's not just her nickname, not anymore. It's become a mark she will bear for the rest of her life.

What... what just happened?  She felt very different all of a sudden, but wasn't sure why.  Something was wrong, different.  But there was no time for that.

"Yer a queer fish Mister Injun... but ah reckon ya mean well, so ah'm much obliged."

She had one more thing to do before she left.  Reaching into the partially opened warbag, she grabbed whatever was in there, sugar, oats, anything, Idjit might like and packed it between her palms.

Giving either horse a handful of it, she stopped to stroke Idjit's face for a moment.  "Ya stupid horse."  The tone and the words didn't match.

She reached for her knife to weaken the branch, but after seeing a bit of clever knotwork on the lead, smirked and let it be.  Even Idjit could get out of that if he really wanted to.  She carefully imitated it with the reins of the horse she'd borrowed.  If this all went south, maybe the three of them could start over somewhere.

She understood him now.  Idjit wasn't meant for this, but he was here all the same.  Even a non stupid horse shouldn't go ignored, so she fed them all the little bite of food.  The Ranger couldn't linger like she might want to, but this might be the last time she saw horses on this side of The Great Corral.  There wasn't anything in the Bible about it, but she was sure heaven was full of horses, and mostly stupid ones at that.

She didn't remember walking away from them, but she must have since she found the rope in her gloved hand soon enough.  Wildcat began to make her way, still curious in the back of her mind what was different all of a sudden.

some mood music

The breathing chasm swallows Wildcat up and the wind from within buffets her about as she descends. It's dark down here...there's no direct light from the crack above her, and the only thing she can see are the walls. There are a number of glyphs carved into the wall, that seem to slither and move in the faint light from the mad shaman's fire, as if the mad scribblings of a dead people were trying to warn her of her impending doom...or climb off the walls and attack her.

She hears something slither across the floor below her...and it echoes strangely. And what did the shaman mean, "Mind the gap?"

A gap could mean either a hole in the floor or the wall in a chasm like this.  She had to be careful... but what was that?

Reaching into one of the duster's many pockets, she produced one of the matches she normally lit cigars with and struck it.  It would only show her the way perhaps for a moment, but it was better than nothing.