Acharya didn't seem to mind. He hunched down next to her and spoke softly, his words however, was heard by every person there. "We have the ability to heal you, Furaha. We came here seeking allies, and we thought we had found one in you. I hope we are still allies, because we need your help. I will allow Asclepius to heal you if you release our pack mate and," he paused for effect, "you tell me exactly why Mary felt the need to attack you in the first place."

Furaha just groaned. Before tonight she had never lost a fight, she had never been challenged by anyone, and her word had been law. So what if her natural Bultungin abilities allowed her to intimidate and dominate any other normal human through mesmerism or just the force of her will. Being female had allowed her to dominate any Bultungin she ran across. She had never been treated like this, and she knew that if she defied these werewolves she would die. Her death replayed itself to her imagination over and over, seeing her broken body left to rot in the African sun, her father mourning her passing. But what galled her the most was that weakling who had attacked her, Mary, would probably have no problem intimidating Winta into submission.

For some reason that thought hurt. One of her people being led around by these animals, unable to lead as was the destiny of all female Bultungin, those that could take leadership anyway. She could still have Mary as a slave, and a wonderful prize that werewolf would be for the Matriarch.

She tried to move her neck and her muscles screamed in protest. These beasts had hurt her in a way that she didn't think possible. She could barely move. As she was, broken, beaten, and useless.

She looked up into the brown man's eyes. She silenced her body and forced her mind to focus. Her eyes bored deeply into Acharya. Her gaze pulled his eyes towards her. She could feel his consciousness. She wasn't done yet and she softly and seductively pulled at that consciousness. She pulled at his thoughts and wrapped them with images of goddesses and pleasant scents and warm feelings, the feelings of servitude and obedience to she that deserved to be served and obeyed.

Acharya sat kneeling next to the beautiful African woman as he gazed deeply into her endlessly deep dark eyes. He felt his heart go out to her.

Furaha, turned and pushed back with her thoughts. Pressing her advantage and forcing her thoughts to override those of his male brain, to replace his mind with thoughts only of her, of obedience to her, of servitude to her.

"You are beautiful," Acharya said softly, "and so proud." Acharya stood up and turned his back on the woman as she lay on the ground.

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Furaha's eyes bulged as she gasped in shock, "Don't turn away from me!" She snarled in a strangled voice. "How can you disobey me, male!?"

Acharya turned his head slightly, softly shaking his head, "You really have no idea who we are, do you?"

"Stop him! Winta! I command you to hold him!" She screamed out into the night.

The shorter woman was had been seated at the fire the whole time, didn't stir to answer or obey her superior. Furaha's voice strangled itself in her throat and all she was capable of doing was thrash weakly on the ground.

Acharya walked back to what was left of the fire and addressed the woman as she writhed in pain and disbelief at being disobeyed and ignored, he wondered what she was having a harder time accepting.

"We are Shape shifters, borne of the same magic that made you, we are cousins. Because of that, we seem to be immune to your mind tricks. Mary, was never going to serve you, if she had been compelled in any way, our pack bond would have alerted us that something wasn't right. It was only a matter of time before you realized the same thing, Furaha."

The woman lying on her back groaned in pain and disbelief. Acharya turned back and faced the injured woman and stared down at her, but his lips had the same semi smile that was never too far from his face, "I offered you the chance to bury the hatchet, so to speak, so we could move on as friends. You took that opportunity and tried to, I can only assume, compel me to…what? Serve you? Worship you? Obey you? All the above?" He laughed gently at the apparent absurdity of the notion. "I offered you friendship, and you demanded of me, servitude."

"Asclepius, please go and heal Furaha. Aiman?" He motioned for his enforcer to follow him a little way away from the group. They spoke in hushed tones and a few hand gestures.

Asclepius cautiously walked over to the woman and inhaled at her wounds. She was injured deeply. Even though she wasn't making any noise but soft moans, her back had been broken, no spinal damage though, that was good. Her leg was also broken. It was a small miracle that this woman wasn't dead. She earned a small amount of respect from the Healer. He didn't think many of his own kind could sustain such injuries and remain as composed as she was.

He inhaled sharply and bit down on her side and on her thigh. This earned him a punch to the snout and a strangled yelp of pain from his patient. She was rolling slowly back and forth on the ground. Asclepius wasn't surprised at the punch to the face, but that didn't stop him from wanting to take a chunk out of her. This woman is incredibly entitled and… what was the word his human pack mates used? Ride? Rouse? Rudy? Something, but whatever it was this woman was that. He walked back to his pack, leaving the woman to deal with her healing as she would. He wasn't going to be doing her any favors anytime soon.

Acharya turned to Dakarai, "Do we have food for in the morning?"

The older man nodded, apparently unsure of what to do. His eyes shifted back to Furaha who had her eyes closed and looked as if she had passed out finally from her injuries.

"Yes," he said slowly, "We have enough food to last maybe through lunch tomorrow."

Acharya shook his head, "That won't be enough to even get these two," he pointed to the two injured women, "past breakfast. Not nearly enough by far."

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