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From: Monture_&_Wicks@magic.ca (Monture & Wicks)
Reply-To: Monture_&_Wicks@magic.ca
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Distribution: world
Subject: The Talisman 3/7
Date: 05 Dec 1994 01:29:02 GMT
Message-ID: <4237815774.2173228@magic.ca>
Organization: Magic Online Services Toronto Inc.
Lines: 539

This is my first posting in this forum ... I hope everyone likes my story.  It
contains shamanism, shape-shifting, pseudo-science, and a lot of speculation.
 I  started writing it after Scully disappeared, and this represents the way
I would have like to  have seen the plot develop, but alas ... and because I
like Mulder, he is the central focus of this story.

Also please note that the Mohawk words used are phonetic representations,
rendered as much as possible in an English format.  I have included a
phonetic key at the end of the story.   There are also aspects of this story
that are not (and I repeat not) in keeping with traditional Native American
practices, so don't for one minute think that it represents any of those
sacred ceremonies and rites.  I have ultimately created my own intepretation
of what may or may not happen, but among my people, there are still those who
practice the craft of the "wadayoneras".  I hope I have treated the idea of
their art with the respect and reverence that it deserves. 

This story is based on the characters and situations created by Chris Carter,
Ten Thirteen Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Company.  No infringement
of copyright is intended.


			The Talisman ... An X-Files Tale (3 of 7 parts)

Chapter 2

	Daisy gave up on the idea of making Tehonig finish his lessons and set him
up in the living room with the Star Wars trilogy on video.  "Pay attention to
the archetypal myths present in the subtext," she ordered before leaving the
room.
	Tehonig only sighed and lost himself in the galaxy far, far away.  Daisy
wandered back upstairs and glanced in at the spare bedroom.  Mulder was
sprawled across the bedspread, a tangle of long limbs and wet towels.  Daisy
smiled and gently closed the door.
	He was an enigma, this strange FBI agent, she mused, going into her bedroom
to stare at her image in the mirror.  He was also very good-looking, to the
point of distraction.   She decided she especially liked his sleepy-lidded
eyes and his low-pitched voice, the way his mouth looked like it needed to be
kissed.  She also liked the fact that he was taller than her.  That was
definitely a rarity in her experience.
	She shook herself firmly.  "You've been alone far too long, Degonawadonti,"
she told herself.  She pulled her hair out of the ponytail and shook it out,
making a face at her image.   "What a mess I am.  I can't believe I let him
see me like this.  In the old days I would have run away screaming," she
said, and laughed at her own vanity. 
	"Ah yes, Degonawadonti, what is a wadayoneras but vain in thinking she holds
the world in her palm?" came a subvocalized voice, speaking slowly in
English.  In the mirror, over her shoulder, she could see the faint outline
that marked the materializing presence of Degasaheh, the Teaching Spirit. 
She never saw more than a hand, or the silhouette of a body, but she knew the
warmth of this essence and the wisdom of its words to her.
	"What say you, Teacher?" she said softly, switching to Mohawk.  "What wisdom
do you have for me regarding this man who has strange insight into things he
cannot hold?" 
	There was something like a chuckle.  "He is tied too tightly to things
beyond his ken for you to hold onto, Degonawadonti.  He has been touched by
forces that even I do not understand."
	"He searches for something.  What is it?"
	"He searches for someone, and something more elusive than that.   He
searches for the truth."
	"There are all kinds of truth."
	"Correct, but this Mulder, this Tasitsho -- he seeks far beyond this world. 
He will travel into places we dare not imagine, and we cannot help him.  He
is a journeyer who is but passing through."  There was a slight pause, as
though Degasaheh was thinking.  "It would be wise to assist this man.  He
brings much that is good with him.  He needs your help on his journey."
	"Then he needs a talisman," said Daisy thoughtfully.   "Maybe a ceremony
would help him in recognizing such a thing."  She smiled.  "It would be a
good trade."
	She could feel rather than see Degasaheh shrug.  "If he will accept such, it
would bring him that which he could hold onto."
	"Then we will strive to make that so," she said, determined.  Degasaheh was
gone.
	She shivered in its passing and whispered the prayer of thanksgiving.  She
decided she would broach the topic with Mulder later.  Perhaps he would delay
his return to Albany, especially if he wanted to get a look at Arrowhead
Peak.
	Odd, she thought.  For the first time in at least three years, she was
thinking in English again, and was amazed at how subtly restructured she had
become.
	Looking critically at her reflection, she decided to take a shower too. 
When she got out, she paid far more attention to her appearance than she had
in the past three years.  In the back of her closet she found a red velvet
dress that was a relic of her wild days but still loved the cut and feel of,
especially against her naked skin.  This went on over a pair of black
leggings and black suede boots.  She chose a vial of amber perfume oil,
dabbed in several secret places.  Grinning at herself, she dug out a makeup
bag from the depths of the dresser counter and rooting around it, found an
old kohl eyeliner and her favourite red lipstick.  "May as well go all out,"
she told herself.
	On her way downstairs, she glanced in at Mulder.  He was still out of it. 
She smiled.  Catnip tea never failed to relax a person, she mused.   The
phone suddenly rang and she ran downstairs.
	Tehonig had picked up the cordless in the living room.  "Sago," he said.  He
paused.  In Mohawk he said, "Hello, Mother.  No, I am watching the moving
picture play called Star Wars.  Akwatonteh is upstairs.  No, I do not think
-- okay, I will speak English."  He paused again, and his little face fell. 
"If you want me to, Mommy.  It doesn't matter to me, but I did want to see
you ..."
	Daisy snatched the phone from her nephew.  "Denene, what's going on?" she
demanded of her younger sister.  Inwardly she sighed.  Denene was flighty and
unreliable, sometimes to the point of irresponsibility.
	Denene was breathless in the phone.  "Hi, Daze -- listen, can you keep
Tehonig one more night?  I'll come pick him up in the morning, I promise. 
It's just that Steven from work -- you remember him, don't you --?"
	Daisy sighed audibly this time.  "Well, Denene, to tell the truth, I was
expecting to come into the city tonight.  I'm dropping off a guest --"
	"Guest?  Who is it?"  Her voice was shrill with anticipation.  Daisy winced
and held the phone away from her ear.  "Hey, did you know that some FBI agent
went off the road about five miles from your place and they said he's missing
and presumed dead?  Did you see anything?  Apparently hikers found the car
around 11 o'clock."
	"No ... me and Tehonig were out at Fort Plain this morning," she lied. 
Tehonig looked up at his name, but kept silent, instantly understanding the
need for secrecy.  "We haven't seen anything." 
	"Well, I saw his picture on the news.  He's really cute."
	The really cute agent that Denene was reporting on was coming down the
stairs, looking still a little dazed with sleep.    The suit was gone,
replaced by a faded green sweatshirt and black jeans that hung quite nicely
on his lean frame.  He started to speak, but she motioned for him to be
silent.  
	"That's pretty wild, Deen.  Okay, well -- call me before you come out.  Me
and Tehonig will nuke some popcorn and watch a flick, I guess.  See you
tomorrow."  She rapidly hung up over her sister's protests.
	"What time is it?," asked Mulder.  "I really didn't mean to fall asleep
again --"
	"You needed it," she said.  "Your body probably did not get the kind of rest
it needed, and now you have."  She caught him looking at her with an
appreciative eye and blushed.  He can probably tell I'm not wearing anything
underneath, she thought, half dismally, half anticipatory.   She steeled
herself, determined not to expose her longings and thus avoid rejection. 
	"There has been a slight change of plans," she told him.  "My sister will
not be home, so Tehonig will be staying with me one more night.  We can still
drive you into Albany, if you want.  But there is one more thing --
apparently your accident and subsequent failure to check in with your office
has led to your being placed on a missing persons alert.   Did you not
mention your name when you checked in with the rental agency?"
	He looked puzzled, his eyes narrowing.  Daisy ignored just how attractive
that furrowed brow made him appear.  "I gave them the license plate number,
but it's not that difficult to trace me from that.   Let me borrow your phone
again, and I'll let them know I'm not dead..." he trailed off then, and all
sleepiness left his face.  "This report that you've heard about, what exactly
did it say?"
	"All I know is what my sister told me.  She said that apparently your car
was found and your name and picture released, and that you are missing and
presumed dead."  This news made his eyes narrow even more.  "Why would your
office jump to such a conclusion?"
	"My office would never issue such a statement," he said firmly.  "Some other
 agency is deliberately planting misinformation."
	"But why would they say you are dead?" she asked.
	He shrugged.  "There's any number of reasons why.  Too long of a story to go
into right now."
	She studied him and was about to say something when Tehonig bolted suddenly
upright, turning his head sharply like a hawk.
	"Degonawadonti," he intoned in that weird, sad voice that marked a spirit
presence.  "There are strange men coming.  They intend to do harm.  You must
not let them know about Tehoniguratheh, and most of all, you must not let
them find Tasitsho."  The boy looked at Mulder with his strangely sightless
eyes.  "They would like to kill you, but they dare not.  Instead they will
take you, and they will hurt you, and you will suffer."
	Daisy immediately went to the window.  One of those black, non-descript cars
that governmental agencies seem so fond of was driving cautiously up the
hill.  Mulder was behind her, pulling aside the curtain.  They could make out
the vague outlines of two men in the front seat.
	"Tehonig, take Tasitsho and go to the attic," she ordered.  "Don't make a
sound."
	Mulder started to protest.  "Do as I say," she commanded, putting all her
will behind her voice, and he involuntarily stepped towards the staircase.
	"Tasitsho," said the spirit voice.  "If you have a weapon, take it with
you."
	Mulder didn't hesitate at this; he took Tehonig's hand and drew the
somnabulent boy with him.  Daisy went into the kitchen and stepped out onto
the porch, steeling herself for confrontation, stepping to the edge so that
the height would give her an advantage.
	The car pulled to a stop behind her Pathfinder and two men got out.  One was
very big and wore sunglasses, putting one hand inside a front pocket as if to
check on his weapon.  The other man, who had been driving, had that kind of
bland white man's face that she would never commit to memory, the features so
very even as to be nondescript.  They both wore regulation black trenchcoats
over grey suits.  The driver paused to light a cigarette, looking at Daisy's
house with distaste.  She hoped they hadn't seen Mulder, standing in the
window of the attic, his gun drawn and gripped tightly in his hand.
	She crossed her arms over her chest and waited, calming herself and calling
inwardly upon the Thunderers, whose strength she would need.  They walked
quickly up to the porch and stood awkwardly beneath her.  The large one
mirrored her stance and the bland one stepped forward.
	"Are you Margaret Daisy Van Leeuwan?" he asked.  His voice was as bland as
his looks.
	"I must be," she allowed.  "Let's skip the formality, shall we?  You
obviously know who I am."
	"We know how distrustful you are of authority, Ms Van Leeuwan," he said, his
smooth voice almost jovial.  "But if you aid us in a little matter we are
investigating, we won't bring up the matter of the death of Charles Vincent
Bowden, dead eight years without charges ever being laid."
	She grinned sharply, thinking of wolves.  The large man stiffened, his hand
going back inside his coat.  "I'm shaking," she said.
	"Don't get cheeky," said the bland man.  "We know how that company covered
for you.  You must have been fucking somebody higher than old Bowden for them
to want to protect your ass the way they did."
	Her grin got toothier.  "You're very rude, Mr. Secret Government Agency Man.
 What are you looking for?  You haven't even told me why you're being so
insulting.  Let me guess -- you found my pirated copy of _Casablanca_ and
you're coming to arrest me?"
	"We're looking for someone," and he nodded at the large man, who brought out
a photo of Mulder.  She glanced quickly at it, noting it didn't do the man
justice.  "He's a renegade agent who has a habit of breaking into secure
government facilities.  His car went off the road about five miles back, and
we're looking for him.  Have you seen him?"
	"No," she said.  "And even if I had, why should I tell you?"  She smiled
serenely at them.  "Your facilities must not be very secure if a lone man can
break into one."
	The large man stirred then, and brought out his gun.  "Because we told you
to," he growled.
	"Now I'm really shaking," she purred.  She was enjoying herself, she
realized.  Her days of isolation and intense education in the ways of the
wayonderas had led her to a kind of preternatural confidence.   She felt the
power of the Thunderers descend around her, charging her skin and hair.
	The bland man stepped onto her porch, coming literally toe-to-toe with
Daisy.  She did not move, and could feel his cigarette breath on her face. 
She stared into his ordinary blue eyes and felt him waver, only slightly. 
"We're going to take a look inside your house," he said.
	"Where's your warrant?" she commanded.
	He nodded at the large man.  "That's my warrant.  Now get out of the way,
Pocohontas, or I'm going to get mad."
	She turned towards her door.  "Go ahead, if you can get in."
	He nodded at the large man, who followed him up on the porch.  He tried the
door, but it would not open.  "Come on, open it," he barked at Daisy.
	She shrugged, opening her arms, palm up.  "Sorry, don't have a key."
	The bland man rattled the door again, then nodded at the large man, who
began backing up to push it open with his shoulder.  At that instant, Daisy
visualized opening the latch to the dog kennel and spoke urgently in her head
to Sowahs, the pack leader.
	The large German Shepherd-Husky cross was around the side of the house and
at the throat of the large man before Daisy had finished speaking to him, the
two Retrievers helping Sowahs pull him down.  The large man was yelping in
the same frantic pitch as the dogs.  Iatseh, the lead female, cornered the
bland one and had him pressed up against the door frame.  Before he could
draw his weapon, Daisy slipped neatly between him and Iatseh and casually
withdrew the gun from the shoulder holster under his left arm.
	"I'm sorry, but my guard dogs just don't like letting people into the
house," she explained cheerfully.  She waved the gun under the bland one's
nose.  "Now, if you please, I have not seen this person, nor do I expect to. 
There's not much cover around here; you should be able to pick him up quite
quickly, if you're clever.   Which I doubt."
	The bland man's face became mottled with angry red blotches.  "You bitch,"
he hissed.  "You're gonna regret this!"
	"I'll be sure and tell my congressperson about the quality of our public
servants," she continued, fitting the gun to his ribs.  "Now, Mr Secret
Government Agency Man and hired lackey -- get the hell off my land!"  She
chuckled to herself.  "I've always wanted to say that."
	She marched him down and back into his car.  Sowahs and Iatseh followed the
large one closely, occasionally taking painful little nips at his backside
and growling most impressively.  She kept the gun trained on them as the
bland one threw the car in reverse and tore off down the hill.   She lowered
the weapon as the car disappeared down the hill.
	Tehonig burst out of the house then, Mulder following.  "Akwatonteh!" he
called.  "You were like Clint Eastwood or something.  That was way cool."
	She ruffled his thick black hair. "Not that cool, little one.  They will be
back, and with more people."  She looked up at Mulder.  "We are going to have
to leave here."
	He nodded.  "I gathered that."
	She looked past the house, to the hidden trail leading into the river valley
and beyond that, to the ancient escarpment called Big Nose.  "We could
conceivably kill two birds with one stone," she mused.  "We could go hide up
at my moonlodge, and that would give you an up close and personal look at
Arrowhead Peak."
	"Moonlodge?" he asked, studying her.  She smiled at him, feeling a sense of
adrenalin-inspired victory and close on the heels of that, lust.
	"It's sort of my private little meditation and ceremonial retreat," she
replied.  "In the old days, women would leave their village during their
menstrual cycle in order to conduct the women's rituals and take a break from
their families.  I use it for the same reason, but I also have a sweatlodge
and many of my visionquest tools are there."  She looked up at the sky,
gauging the time.  "We will have to hurry, though -- it's about an hour's
worth of hiking, and the sun's going to go down in about that length of time.
 Tehonig, pack up your overnight gear bag.  I'll grab some food.  Tasitsho,
you're going to have to bring your things with you, or they will give you
away."
	He stared hard at her.  "I don't think you have thought about the
consequences of aiding me," he began.  "These people are ruthless; you could
be setting you and Tehonig up for serious trouble."  He looked troubled.  "I
don't want to feel that I am the cause of any difficulty."
	She went to him and put a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat through
the fabric of his sweatshirt, stilled her hand from exploring the hard
muscles she felt beneath.  "I have been instructed to help you," she said
softly.  "This command is not one that can be easily ignored.  And anyway,
there is the possibility that will make a good trade."  She pulled her hand
away and straightened.  "And I don't believe you can ignore our help, not
now."
	He shrugged.  "I guess not."
	"You must gather your things, and quickly," she urged, turning back to the
house.  "We don't have much time."  She strode into the house and felt Mulder
hesitate for the briefest of instants before he followed her. 
	She spent her time going through the cupboards and filled a bag with various
groceries, enough for two days.  She found a large plastic picnic jug to fill
from the spring behind the sweatlodge and then raced upstairs two at a time,
grabbing a change of dark clothing from her bedroom.  She pulled a black
polar fleece jacket from her closet on the way out.
	Downstairs Mulder and Tehonig were waiting, the boy wearing a back pack over
his weatherproof black jacket and black pants, his hiking boots tapping out a
rhythm of impatience.  Daisy saw that he was brimming over with an excited
and apprehensive tension, and sent a calming thought in his direction.  He
looked up at her and nodded, trying his best to relax.  She kicked off her
boots and laced on her hiking boots, zippering the jacket up when she
finished.
	Mulder was wearing a blue all-weather jacket and had slung his overnight bag
over his shoulder.  His expression was quietly watchful, but the waves of
tension emanating from him had a life of their own.   She grabbed up her
buckskin bag and the groceries from the kitchen counter, stuffing them in a
backpack and slung it onto her back.  "Let's go," she commanded.
	They followed her out to the back of the house.  At a hand signal from her,
Sowahs and the Retrievers retreated back to their kennel, but Iatseh joined
them.  Iatseh, mostly Husky but crossed with some wolf, was an uncanny
watchdog and would serve them well.   She led the way onto the path, pulling
a flashlight out of a flap on the backpack and carrying it loosely in one
hand.  Tehonig scrambled to the front and soon disappeared into the bush
ahead of them, Iatseh at his heels.
	Mulder paced her without a sound.  The path snaked ever upward into the
heavily wooded hills, and the already gloomy day was fast coming to an end. 
"This trail isn't very well marked," he noted.	"No, I decided long ago I
wouldn't leave any visible traces so that if ever I got into any kind of
trouble, the moonlodge could also be a kind of sanctuary.  I'm glad I had
that kind of foresight."
	"I'm glad you did, too."  He was silent for awhile, and then asked softly,
"Are you lonely here, Daisy?"
	It was the first time he had called her by name, and she liked the way he
said it.  It really did make her sound like a flower.  "Sometimes I am, but
mostly I'm not.  I am surrounded by many things, Tasitsho -- things that most
people cannot or refuse to see.  Our society has taught us to close our minds
and our eyes against things which we cannot touch with our hands, and so our
hearts remain closed to the myriad possibilities which, contrary to popular
belief, do exist."
	He chuckled softly.  "Tell me about it," he said.  "I've spent most of my
career investigating things which most people dismiss quickly and with
disgust, because their belief system is too narrow or not equipped to deal
with something outside the ordinary.  But there are a lot of things which are
dismissible and I'm starting to think that maybe there is nothing
paranormal."  He was silent again.  She measured the silence in heartbeats,
and then he said, "I'm wondering how someone like you, with your educational
background, reconciles your personal beliefs with what you know to be the
incontravertible truth of hard science."
	It was her turn to laugh.  "But it is science, Agent Mulder," she said. 
"Everything around us, everything in the universe, is based upon an atomic
structure -- pure energy transformed into matter.  All matter is
transformable back into energy.  What I have learned to do, based upon the
old lore and aided by western science's knowledge of physics, is to learn in
small ways how to manipulate enery.  The so-called paranormal is but a
different plane of existence where energy has been transformed into something
unexpected."
	They walked a little further in silence, and then she mused, "The universe
resonates with energies of all kinds.  Our minds sing these harmonies when we
dream, and it's a  matter of learning to sing these songs in a conscious
state."  She glanced up at him, his face shadowed in the darkening twilight. 
"Although grasping the nature of the transformation is rather hard ... but I
think you  understand what I mean."
	Mulder shrugged, peering at her in the settling gloom.  "I think so," he
said dubiously.  "I know you have some kind of ability, but I'm not sure what
it is.  I want to believe in an existence beyond what I can see, but I'm
beginning to distrust in my own ... instinct." 
	"It's hard to listen to yourself, especially when experience gets in the
way," she said, keeping her tone even.  This man was deliciously enigmatic,
she thought, and the sound of his voice in the deepening night was doing
strange things to her equilibrium.  She was feeling light-headed, a warmth
spreading through her stomach as she contemplated him, like she had taken a
powerful drug and was fighting a kind of stupor in which she wanted to fall
into his arms and drag him into the underbrush, pulling his clothes off of
him in a frenzy.   She calmed herself.  She could feel that he thought of
himself as something of a loser where women were concerned and to do that
would frighten him to his very core.
	"You ought to talk to Scully," he said.  "Maybe you could get her to concede
in accepting the supernatural as an alternate reality."
	She deflated at the mention of his partner.  She could detect an eerie
association that surrounded him, like this person was actually present.   It
was obvious that she meant a great deal to him, but not as a lover or a
friend, but something beyond that -- like their energies were linked. 
Interesting, she thought.  I want to get him into a trance state and hear
what his totem animals say about this.   
	"I'll do my best," she said.  She roused herself.  "But I'm getting hungry
again, and we're still about fifteen minutes away -- ten, if we step on it."
	"Lead on, Sacajawea," he said, teasing her.  She shot him a mock glare over
her shoulder and turned on the flashlight, breaking into a slight jogging
step that ate up the terrain.  He followed closely behind, so close that she
could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, decided she liked that.
	They reached the moonlodge as promised ten minutes later.  Tehonig had
already lit the woodstove and the oil lamp that sat on the small table
inside.  She loved her little lodge, having built it with her bare hands in a
mushroom-induced three-day trance-state.  It was watertight and could be
warmed with the little woodstove that had been installed.  They went inside,
Mulder ducking a fraction to fit through the doorway.
	She had built sleeping platforms along the western wall in the style of her
people, imitating the longhouse structure, and a table and a wash basin stood
opposite.  One shelf held an extensive library of books of all kinds,
paperbacks vying for space with hardcovers and even some old leather-bound
volumes lending the room that particularly dusty smell of libraries.  False
face and cornhusk masks were hung on all walls to invoke the guardian spirits
of the forest.  The one small window looked out over the brush to the
neighbouring hillside.  Lights dotted the very top -- this was the base
called Arrowhead Peak.
	Mulder immediately went to the window and, rummaging around in his bag, came
out with a pair of binoculars which he trained on the distant lights.  Daisy
set her bags on one of the platforms and set about making a pot of spaghetti,
sending Tehonig out to fill the water jug.   Some minutes later, with the
water boiling on the wood stove, Daisy slipped beside Mulder and asked, "See
anything interesting?"
	He lowered the binoculars.  "No, unfortunately.  It looks ordinary enough."
	She smiled at him.  "You should wait a while.  Usually the light show begins
around 11 p.m."
	"What do these lights look like when you see them?"
	"It varies, but the most common one is a triangular-shaped luminous object
that seems to hover silently and has pretty amazing maneuvering
capabilities."  She thought for a moment.  "Actually -- the refraction
percentage puts me in mind of some of the same properties present in the
radar-deflective polycarbon we ended up developing for the Stealth bomber. 
It has the same kind of non-reflective surfactant."
	Mulder stared down at her for a long moment, his eyes faraway.  He seemed to
be about to say something and then shook his head, as though trying to grasp
a distant memory.  "What you have told me sounds strangely familiar ... I
feel like I've seen something along the lines of what you've described ...
but I can't seem to ..." he trailed off and frowned, his bewilderment a
palpable thing.   "It's like I've seen something like this up close but it's
all a fog ..."
	She gently touched his arm.  "Put it away for awhile.  When you least expect
it, the memory will resurface.   Come on, we'll eat some pasta and drink some
wine -- I think I've stashed a couple bottles of a lovely little Beaujolais
somewhere --"  She led him away from the window.  He came away reluctantly.
	She made dinner rapidly.  When she was sure Mulder wasn't watching her, she
poured a bottle of wine into a decanter and, without any real awareness of
doing it, added about four ounces of a psilocybin-based extract, one she had
learned to concoct for quick and effortless plunging into the trance-state. 
She placed the decanter and wine glasses on the table. 
	Throughout dinner, he seemed detached and faraway.  Daisy did not press him,
but kept up a light, quick patter, bouncing conversation off Tehonig and
ignoring Mulder's obvious preoccupation.  Iatseh sat at Tehonig's feet,
watching them all with her intent doggy stare.  Mulder ate absently and kept
refilling his wine glass, gulping it down like it was water, but he didn't
seem to exhibit any signs of incipient intoxication.   Daisy drank about two
glasses, knowing she didn't need as much to experience the trance-state, but
even an accomplished wadayoneras needed the vision medicine to begin the
journey.
	About an hour later, Mulder was staring at her with a wild, wide-eyed stare,
his pupils dilated to the point of being black pools against the forest-green
irises.  Sweat was trickling down his brow, and he looked weak and shaken.  
Tehonig looked at his aunt.  "Akwetonteh," he said disapprovingly.  "You
tricked him into taking the mushrooms."
	"FBI agents don't willingly swallow psychedelics, Tehonig," she said.  She
looked at Mulder, who was gaping and trying to speak, his eyes suddenly wild
with fear.  She went to him and spoke soothingly against his ear, cradling
his head against her shoulder. 
	"Listen to me, Tasitsho," she whispered.  "We are going to take a little
journey, you and I."  She helped him to his feet.  "Tehonig, we will be in
the sweatlodge.  I trust you and Iatseh to keep watch."
	Tehonig nodded and handed her a lantern.   Balancing it on one wrist and her
arm wrapped around Mulder's waist, she grabbed up their coats and went out
the door, going up the short path deeper into the forest, struggling under
his weight.  The sweatlodge was cold and dark, draped with canvas and furs, a
small hill in the night.  She made him stand alone, swaying, while she went
inside, lighting the fire for the steam.  He looked at her and burst into
maniacal laughter.
	"You really are a witch," he said, and like a cat was suddenly beside her,
wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair.  She danced
lightly away from him, giggling in the building hurricane of the drug. 
	"I had already told you that," she said to him, and taking his hand, led him
inside the sweatlodge.  She began peeling off her clothes, and he eagerly
followed, tearing at his clothing, his eyes locked on hers.
	She shook her head at him.  "That is not what we are here for," she said
calmly.  She put the little stone circle at the centre of the lodge between
them and made sure the water bucket was still full.   She sat back, the lodge
growing warmer and a light draft wafting on her skin.  She looked at Mulder,
admiring the strong breadth of his shoulders and arms, the slightly-furred
chest, then steeled herself to her task at hand.
	She began chanting with her eyes closed, the ancient words clearing her
mind.  When she opened them, Mulder was not there.  In his place were four
animals, a fox, an eagle, a  horse, and perhaps the most surprising of all, a
mountain lion, its strange yellow eyes gazing into hers.   It seemed to be
nursing its front right paw.  She composed herself.
	"Greetings, brothers," she said.  "Do you speak for this man, for the one I
call Tasitsho?"
	The fox stirred, sweeping its red tail tightly around its body.  "I do,
sister," it said.  It looked up at her, its savagely intelligent eyes locking
with hers.  "We dwell in the man.  I am his first totem, the totem of his
name.  These are the totems of his spirit.  And this one," with a sweep of
its small paw, indicated the mountain lion, "this animal is the spirit of his
friend, who must live within him now that her mind has fled.  We ask that you
assist us to return her, for she has wandered far and is injured."
	The mountain lion gave a low, dangerous growl as Daisy came closer, saw a
strange steel object embedded deep in the padding of its paw.  It looked like
nothing she had ever seen before, not a nail or a scalpel, but something
mechanical, like a piece of machinery. 
	The eagle stirred then, and the horse stamped and whinnied, shaking its
glossy brown mane.  "We want to see the strange place," screeched the bird. 
"We want to know.  We want to journey.   Come, sister -- fly with us!"
	She could not ignore the command, and felt her arms turning to wings as her
spirit flew free of her body, spiralling through the smoke hole in the
sweatlodge, into the dark sky where clouds roiled overhead.