Acharya forced himself not to say anything. Dakarai looked like he was having just as much problem digesting what had just happened as they were. Clearly the sight of his friend's daughter, being a young woman, was a shock to the old man.

After a short time had passed the door opened again. This time an old man, around the same age as Dakarai came out into the afternoon sun.

Dakarai smiled warmly, "Makalo! It's good to see you, old friend."

Makalo looking sad and tired, nodded at the old blacksmith, "What do you want Dakarai?"

Dakarai stepped back like he had just been slapped. His back straightened as he stood his full height. He was a few inches taller than Makalo and he looked down at his friend, "Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I have a family, and other things to deal with than worrying about you, and what sort of trouble you may have gotten yourself into. Now, cut the crap and tell me what the hell you want."

Dakarai's face darkened as the anger raged just below the surface, "Look, Makalo. I know I've made mistakes. I'm not perfect, I've never said I was. The only reason I'm here is because these people," he pointed back to Acharya and his pack, "need our help. I wouldn't have helped them either except that they did something for my village that I don't think I can ever repay. So, I offered to guide them here to help them."

Makalo scoffed, "Really? You expect me to believe that you, the great Dakarai Olanrewaju, who cares for nothing and no one, is finally doing something selfless with his worthless life?" Dakarai grew very still. He stood there taking every insult that his friend had to throw at him.

Acharya and the rest of the pack had absolutely no idea what was going on. None of them understood the language, but they all understood the body language and the tones. Even Asclepius knew that this reunion was not going pleasantly. Aiman tensed and readied himself to act, just in case this scene got ugly. Having Dakarai attack, hurt, or kill someone would not help their cause in the slightest.

"I never hurt, or lied to you, Makalo," Dakarai said slowly. "And I'm not lying to you now. These people may be able to help our people. They already helped my village as I've said. I know I will never be worthy of redemption in your eyes, and that's fair. But I am asking you to listen to them before you judge my motives."

Makalo looked around Dakarai at his six companions. They traveled with a wolf. That alone was enough to pique his interest. But, then again, the very presence of Dakarai tainted and changed things. He couldn't be trusted in anything. Who were these people? Was this a trick or a trap?

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"Who are you?" Makalo asked in a heavily accented English.

Acharya responded, "I'm Egaiarasu Acharya, and these are my pack mates." He pointed to each member of his pack in turn, "This is Mary Johansson, he is Aiman Bashara, Tara Kitcheyan, the girl with pale skin is Malikah Samadi, and that one on four legs is Asclepius."

"Name, tell me nothing," Makalo responded slowly. "I want know, who you are, and how you know, Dakarai?"

Acharya looked at his pack mates. They all nodded once in response. Acharya turned back to Makalo with his usual smile as he answered, "We're werewolves, Shape shifters as we like to call ourselves. Dakarai here," he set his hand on the old blacksmith's shoulder, "was good enough to be our guide to meet you. We met him in his village of Maganan Shawira. He didn't have any interest in helping us at first, but Tara and I were able to change his mind."

Makalo scoffed, "I believe him not want to help." He regarded the Indian man silently with a furrowed brow. "How you get him change mind?"

It was Tara who spoke, "We helped his village crops grow. After that, Dakarai agreed to help us."

Makalo turned back to Dakarai and spoke in their own language, "So that's it, then? They made some of your pathetic village's crop grow and now you feel like you have to help them? Please?! The Dakarai I know would have said, 'thanks for the help' and kicked them out the front door. Why should I believe any of this?"

Dakarai couldn't help himself and finally exploded. "Because I have nothing left! I'm old, Makalo! I don't have anybody; I have nothing of any worth to look back on in my life! I thought for once, just once, I could do something that might be bigger than myself! I will never make up for what I did in your eyes. And that's fine! I have been apprenticing my two nephews in my smithy, nephews! Makalo. This might be something that I can look back on and know that I finally did the right thing!"

He turned around and stalked away from the house for a few steps. Malikah could smell the turmoil that wafted off him. This wasn't going well for him. She felt horrible for the old guy. The sins of our life time can't be out run forever; those sins eventually catch up with us. From what just happened, a lot of those sins had just caught up with Dakarai, and he was reacting just like most people would, with rage, disbelief, and sorrow.

Makalo stared at his one-time friend harshly, "And what does that have to do with me? If the situation was reversed, and it was if you remember, you would have left me high and dry saying that it was my fault." He shook his head and went back to his hut and opened the door, stepping inside. He turned and called out over his shoulder, "go home Dakarai. There is nothing for you here either."

"We have to see the Matriarch," Malikah almost yelled at Makalo.

Makalo stopped in the doorway. He slowly turned around and faced the pale skinned, brown haired woman with silent pensive eyes. He responded in a voice barely above a whisper, "What about Matriarch?"

Malikah took a few steps towards Makalo, "Please. We are trying to save our home. We have to see your Matriarch to ask your people to fight with us for the City Under the Mountain, our home. Which was destroyed by three different vampire Houses working together. Please, we need your help."

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