Makalo stared at the young woman with wide eyes, "You want to see Matriarch? Inner circle will stop you."

Acharya answered easily, "We know. That's why we need yours and Dakarai's help. We are trying to build a coalition to gain an audience with the Matriarch."

"I don't have to tell you of our lost home, Kabultiloa," Dakarai said softly in his own language. "I am not worth your time, Makalo. But surely helping these people avenge their lost home is worth more than what passed between us years ago."

The young woman who had first answered the door appeared once again quite suddenly. In her own language, "Father? What's going on? Who are these people? Do you need help?" She made to step out of the house before her wrist was grabbed by her father's strong hand. The woman looked back at her father a bit shocked being handled like she was a child again.

Makalo looked into his daughter's eyes. The proud woman who stood before him was in her thirties but her smooth skin showed none of that age. She hadn't gotten married because of her loyalty to her family. He never wanted that for her. He wanted her to have a full life, to live and to not make the same mistakes he had. She had gone to school but had decided to come back and apprentice under him, until they had been forced out of their town because of a lack of work. Her beautiful dark brown eyes were so full of life. He hated himself for what he must do, but he knew that she wouldn't want it any other way either. It broke his heart.

"Father, you're scaring me," she said. "What's wrong?"

"There is something we have to do, Furaha. Something that I had hoped you would never have to do."

"Father, I am your daughter. Tell me what is going on and what you mean. I'm not a child who is afraid of the dark. Tell me."

Instead, Makalo hugged his daughter to him. Furaha smiled, "Father, you act like we are going somewhere that we may not come back from."

Makalo let go of his daughter and looked at her again with sad, but determined eyes. "We go to see the Matriarch, Furaha. If successful, we will travel to a faraway land and do battle. If we're not, the Matriarch's inner circle will kill us without warning. Either way, one of us may not come back. I would not ask this of you…"

"I travel with you, Father." Furaha said forcefully. "I always knew that my gift would ask a price one day. I don't care about these people; I care about you. If you say we must go, then I will travel with you, and meet the same fate as you. You can't protect me forever, but perhaps I can protect you."

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Makalo smiled as his eyes began to water. He hugged his daughter tightly. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Furaha. By whatever grace the gods have given me, may they protect you on this journey."

Furaha hugged her father before letting him go. She stepped out and looked over the whole group. Her back was arrow straight and her face held no expression. Her eyes told them everything about her in an instant.

"You know how many are in the inner circle?" Furaha asked in English.

Mary shook her head, "No, but I intend to know in the coming weeks."

"Be sure that you do. In our culture, a woman stands higher than any man. You will follow me, and while we are in my country, you will do what you're told. If you have a problem with that, my father and I stay here and you can die with him," she jerked her chin towards Dakarai.

Aiman arched an eyebrow and looked towards Mary. She looked at the three men. Acharya nodded his agreement and Aiman did as well. Asclepius whined low in his throat and shook his whole body. He looked up at her with his golden eyes and nodded as well.

Mary turned back towards Furaha and nodded, "We accept your terms."

Furaha nodded curtly, "Good." She turned to Makalo, "Father, go inside with Dakarai, I will be in shortly."

Makalo looked as if he wanted to protest but the female of the cackle had spoken and he wasn't strong enough to challenge his own daughter. He motioned for Dakarai to enter his home. The old blacksmith nodded in thanks and ducked under the hut door. Furaha closed the door on the two men.

She turned to look at the pack once more. "Who are you, and what do you want with the Matriarch?"

Acharya leaned in towards Aiman and muttered, "Straight to the point, this one. You two have a lot in common." Aiman ignored the comment and remained silent and rigid.

Mary answered the native woman, "We are a pack of Shape shifters, werewolves, from the City Under the Mountain. We were sent here to find the Bultungin, and ask for help in fighting the three vampire Houses that destroyed our home."

"Why would the Matriarch risk her own people to help you?" Furaha responded icily. "Since when have the proud Werewolves ever given us help in our times of need?"

Mary gazed evenly at the woman, "We will make our offer to the Matriarch."

Furaha smiled cruelly, "which means you have no idea what you're going to offer. I studied in America for a year. I know how entitled you all think you are." She walked towards Mary and stopped just to the side of her, the two women's shoulders almost touching. Furaha then spoke too softly for anyone but Mary to hear. Smiling brightly, Furaha walked back to the door of the hut. "Please, welcome to our home, fellow travelers. May you always find shade and shelter, I welcome you as family."

The pack slowly walked towards the hut door. Suddenly the gaping darkness from within looked more like a portal into hell, than shade and shelter. Mary was the last in the door. Furaha smiled at her. The last words the woman spoke to her rang in her mind on a continuous loop. She looked back out over the African landscape. Suddenly she felt very small, and very vulnerable. She had to force herself to duck her head and enter the cool dark of the hut, as Furaha closed the hut door behind them.

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