Authors note: A while perhaps? Yes, I've been away. Thankfully, the second quarter of college is at an end, which leaves me with a multitude of decisions. Well, to be straight forward, it's obvious. Welcome back to Lupus.

After a brainless and regrettable Tiberinus section, I have had time to think about Lupus. Originally, my dream ended right at the town where Lupus is now holding his own against the might of half the standing Organization. I doubted this would make a good ending and much had yet to be revealed. There had to be a bit more to why the renegade warriors rejoined the Organization, the exact origins of Wolvines and the history of the Brown Basil kind altogether. Above all, I wanted to explore the back story behind Canis

Daydreaming shall fill that void.

I will also go back through Lupus and reedit a few parts to make it a bit more coherent with this new entry. In my opinion, what has been entered would work enough by itself, but it could use a bit of tweaking here and there. Yes, I admit it. I never wrote fiction before becoming Terracrafter

Based on a certain anonymous review, I will be frontal. Lupus was not named after failing kidneys. Some might have already realized the slight irony in naming him as such. To the rest, I shall give a riddle. Lupus is a subtle word of many ages old. Held revered by an Empire, rich of marble and gold. But if there is a stu element that I have overlooked, please tell me.

Deeper into the forest, Clare and Helen obediently followed Miria. With each step taken, they grew more concerned with their silent comrade. Until she felt secure enough and far from prying eyes and ears, they would continue on with worried expressions. As for Deneve though, she stayed behind to watch over Raki.

Finally coming to a halt, Miria faced the two she could easily call her sisters.

"So where's Deneve?" Helen asked.

Miria gave a heavy sigh. "She already knows about Lupus."

"Who?" Helen said aloud, blinking a few times in confusion.

"The so called Yoma we're hunting," Miria answered. "I think now is a good time than any to tell you what's been going on. So make yourselves comfortable."

Clare watched as Helen drew her own sword, planted it in the ground and sat against it. However, she refused to take Miria's advice. With a stern look she faced her on again, off again commander and elder. "Just what is going on, Miria?"

"Yeah," Helen put in. "What's with having us get back together? Gloria looked like she was going to take my head off when she saw me. And who is Lupus really?"

Miria leaned against a tree and wearily shook her head. "I did something terrible many years ago. Something that I will have to die for." With features set in stone, she gave a pained, regretting look to the two warriors before her.

Clare frowned. "Die?" she repeated.

"It's going to be a while until we're needed," Miria continued. "So let me start from the beginning…"

Part Two: The Claymore and the Wolf

Miria's recollection of her past and the memoirs of Canis

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Fifty seven years before the birth of Miria

The days of fall were upon the land, each breath of wind colder than the last. The warm brooks and streams chilled and became icy as if over night. Fields of wheat were busily attended too by concerned farmers, determined to beat the next frost. All throughout the thatched roof villages and worn shingle townships, everyone preoccupied themselves with the gathering and preparations for winter. Due to their rambunctious behavior, children were set loose through the fields, dashing through the blanket of fallen leaves atop the deathbed of autumn. The world was dying, and a funeral was being set to honor it with hard labor.

Out past the abandoned stone grain silos, a tall windmill could be seen. It had been long neglected by the farmer that owned the property, yet it was still kept in working order. Every day, children would be sent by their parents to exchange meat, milk and blankets for a fresh supply of flour. And every day, the new keeper of this important structure could be seen replacing the whicker roofing for hardier shingles.

The children were always eager to see the resident of the mill. Rumors circulated through their ranks about this strange fellow. "He's a werewolf," one would proclaim. "M' dad says so." "No," another would argue. "He's a Yoma." "I heard he is the son of hell," an older, religious one stated. "But he's trying to do well under heaven's watch so he could be turned into a man." And so on and so on. Of course, everyone was interested, and wary, that someone like Canis would be living right in their lowly village.

The past of the bi-pedal dog was well known to the farmer that rented his mill out to him. He had once been a house dog it seems, who had gotten hold of a Yoma after a Claymore had done away with it. Chased off by the locals trying to burn the body, he wandered into the woods and away from home. Quite a ways he traveled, journeying through the dangerous territory of the mountain passes. Just how he survived was obvious enough to the young farmer. The flesh changed him; it was told/rumored that Claymores ate demon meat to change into what they were, so why not a dog? And those stories of his survival were passed down to the children each day, a mix of adventure and cunning. As for the "truth" about his origins, those only the adults were told at night when the younglings were tucked away. The farmer was told as well, a lot more than others.

But that's another story entirely...

"Is he out there?" Matilda asked from the back of the kitchen. The wife of the young farmer, she was a fair blonde with blue eyes set in a young, beautiful face. Her calm smile warmed the room as she turned from her neading to her husband.

Jed stood at a steamed window that looked out over the hills of wheat. He used his sleeve to wipe the fog away and peered out across his property. The rising and falling of a hammer from behind the other side of the rooftop told him Canis was still hard at work. "Yeah, he's out there," he replied. "I can't believe just how fast he repaired that old thing."

"Are the children going up the path today?" Matilda asked.

Jed shook his head. "No, it doesn't look like it… oh wait, Mather's kids are just leaving." The farmer watched as five busied children hurried away from the mill with sacks of flour clutched in their miniscule arms. From where he stood, Jed could tell that they were talking to one another. "It looks like Canis told them another tale."

"How long as Canis been with us?"

"I don't know really. About a month, why?"

"Has Jericho finally gotten over there being a man-dog living with us?"

"Are you kidding? I swear, one of these days he's going to start a riot."

Matilda walked away from the stove with a bundle of bread and a large meat pie. "That dog's arrival was the best thing that could ever happen to us. As soon as he got here he tore the throat out of that Yoma imposter. Ever since there hasn't been a single attack."

The bundle was handed over to Jed, who starred quizzically at his wife.

"For him, not you!" she said in a huff.

-----

Canis was colored slightly lighter than a golden retriever, with the face of a German Shepherd with thick, billowing fur on his cheeks. His eyes were a deep brown, with large canine irises. Having been a household pet before his transformation, he was well accustomed to seeing clothing for formal appearance and working, as well as certain necessary requirements when out an abroad. He wore a thick light brown vest, woolen pants stained from sweat, dirt and his shedding fur, and a pair of boots fitted personally just for him. His wardrobe was a decent size (as demanded by Jed's wife), but for working he chose to only use the same outfit he wore when he first arrived.

Canis stood up from his hammering to inspect his handiwork. He grinned as the tiles held firmly from the cool wind, proud that he did something worthwhile. One tile wasn't hammered properly; only one nail had completely entered the support beam. With lips pursed and a sly glance he eased his boot over and pushed one of the jutting nails into place.

"Pefectus," he said to himself, his language long dormant. To speak in his old tongue again seemed awkward, but who was he to tell what was abnormal? He knew he was a bi-pedal dog; that was awkward even to him. "Shiagaru." Yeah, that sounded a bit better.

Canis wore only one glove, covering his left hand from finger tip to half way up his forearm. It would itch occasionally, but not from his fur coming in contact with cloth. Sometimes, it would burn. As not to upset the children, he usually kept it covered whenever out in the open, his town activities had his hand placed in a pocket. Whenever it got too bad he would take the glove off and let his hand wash over in the cooling breeze. It seemed every time he took it off though, more fur was lost. "Hmm." The deep guttural noise of concern escaped from his throat as he looked at his fingers. They were almost bald. Keeping his mind from the predicament, Canis replaced the glove and proceeded to get back to work.

The sound of footsteps traversing a rocky path made his ears stand up on end. Jed was now coming down from his home, which meant fresh goods from the missus. Either that or another project that he was more than happy to help out with. 'They did take me in.'

"I was expecting you to be here," Jed called out from down below. He came to a stop a few feet from the wind mill, with the bundle still slung over his shoulder.

Canis set his hammer aside and approached the roof's edge. "Really?"

Jed only blinked as Canis landed right in front of him. "I got some food Matilda just cooked up," he said as the resident picked himself back up. "It's not much, but she still bakes a good meat pie."

Canis picked himself up and brushed himself off. "What's today's flavor?" he asked.

Jed shrugged. "Pig, I guess. I honestly don't know. All I have is a wheat field and a working mill – thanks to you works finally. Gunny raises livestock."

Jed offered the bundle to Canis. The site of him had pretty much become commonplace for the worn out village, so to see him covered in grime and looking like a beast did not affect the farmer.

While Canis began inspecting the contents (and muttering to himself that Matilda shouldn't be using her old china to house the pie), Jed looked the mill over with satisfaction. "Did you get the heating put in yet?"

Canis nodded. "I just need to haul up some wood from the forest and she'll be all set."

"Ah. Mind if I come inside?"

Canis shook his head. "No, not at all."

"Good," said Jed as Canis lead the way to the doorway. "Because there's something I need to talk to you about."

Canis looked over his shoulder. "Really? It isn't Jericho again, is it?"

Jed sighed. "No, it's not that. As far as I'm concerned, this shack's your home until the baby's old enough to take allergy medicine. No offense. It's matters concerning the town."

Jed and Canis stopped at the landing and faced one another. "I think they've been invaded by a Yoma," Jed explained.

The wind picked up for a moment, ruffling Canis's already unkempt fur amidst a calm face. With a mere shrug, a testament that this was no big deal to him, he accepted the duty like another one of his daily chores. His pressence alone was more than enough to keep the older, wiser one's at bay, but the younger generations always needed to be taught a lesson. Canis opened the door and moved to let the hospitable farmer in, but Jed wouldn't budge.

"A Claymore's coming," Jed continued. "There's a good chance that she'll be inspecting our village too."

Canis couldn't quite place it, but for some reason the bone chilling wind seemed less aparrent.