I have committed a writer's sin. Don't anybody count how many times I used the word 'blade' in the last chapter. You'll make yourself sick. It was definitely over three. I should be shot.

Anywho, on to review responses:

Hamstadini: Thanks for that bit of info on the two of them. I found that most of the forums assessed them as being dead, but most had watched the anime, and many of those were certain that Ileana was also deceased, so it really was a toss-up. Sorry if I mislead you into thinking this was some sort of romance enlaced shoujo-ai, and I hope I haven't chased you away. I've read your latest Claymore fic and loved it, though I'm not too fond of Priscilla, you did a good job sparking a teeny bit of remorse for her position.

Stringer13: Thank you, them meeting Clare would certainly prove interesting, especially with my dread of writing her character. Sounds like I'm going to have to read a huge chunk of manga again!

Haxan: It's wonderful to know that you enjoy such a broad spectrum! There are so many good writers out there that get cast aside because it's not the genre that most people crave. I do hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I am writing it. Thanks for the review! It's very much appreciated.

Defiledone: I'm not sure how many reviews Claymore novels typically get, but I was amazed at how fast the reviews DID come in. It's great to know there are more people that wish to read my stories. I hope I don't disappoint you with this next chapter. Enjoy!

And to everyone who reviewed: Really, thanks SO much for the input. I thrive off of what people think, and you have all really inspired me to keep writing.

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Two pairs of silver eyes remained frozen under the pale light of the moon. They lay set on a form only seconds away, which seemed unconcerned by their watchful gaze. It, as it would be better be known, was covered from head to toe in a thick black cloth. It had been worn down and the ends frayed in various places, but these imperfections appeared recent. The curlier haired of the two surmised that it they had been caused by its long journey to where they'd eventually been found.

The crackle of an orange flame separated them, dancing its way about their faces, begging for some sort of speech to take place. It slid down the metal of two claymores held rigid in the ground, supporting the backs of their wielders. Sophia could feel the light touch of Noel's shoulder blades against her own. The warm feeling meant safety, trust, and life. Without it, the world's cold grasp would choke the air from her throat and freeze the water in her blood. Noel's world contradicted Sophia's. It was on fire, raging and bubbling within that other's heart until it forced itself out in bouts of fury.

Yet, even the presence of the other was enough to numb both their bodies to feel nothing. The feeling known by the name of alone crept under their fingernails and slid under the surface of the skin, until they breathed it out so the process could repeat again. Neither could bring themselves to speak, nor could they silence the questions shoving against their skulls until the pressure became nearly too much to bear. White mist rose in front of their mouths, and Noel subconsciously drew a furred overcoat tighter around her shoulders. Though the movement was slight it was enough to break the spell that had settled.

"I believe you have some questions to answer," Sophia said, looking away towards her feet. Unlike Noel, she was content to freeze in the bitter cold. Only the garb of the Claymore covered her body, and Sophia could feel a prickle creep in her fingers where valuable heat escaped to be lost forever. The earth around them was a frozen landscape illuminated by the harsh gaze of the moon. It appeared fresher and cleaner than mortally possible, but the bite of the wind reminded them both that appearances were only there to confuse the foolish to venture out into the night.

They had its attention now, or some of it. "Oh?" it played dumb. The three of them knew full well the questions on one another's minds. It was the game of 'who would say it first, and give in'. They were playing a giant game of seek, hide, and eventually, kill. Whose death would wrought the ground with pestilence?

"You assume we have something left to live for," Sophia continued, biting her tongue. In her mind's eye, her own blood splattered across the paling white of her flesh. She could feel Noel's attention focused on her, no doubt cursing her out. "It's the play of the organization, is it not? Find them when they have a will to live, and give them a purpose. It becomes fighting, the lustful joy that comes only from the smell of death. Even killing one another becomes a sickening game we crave. Until we lose all sight of the yoma or human within in us and live for only the organization's wills. Isn't that right Noel?"

Sophia could feel the air get warmer and she allowed her lips to curl only slightly, imagining what the monkey was thinking. 'Who are you to drag me into this?' They both knew it was a battle they couldn't win, but they'd fight it all the same. Until the blood and sweat became so thickly packed they could taste it through their skin.

"I can't recall how I became Noel," her friend started. The air began to toss and turn around them. The trees howled their discontent, moaning with each passing voice. "There are memories of pain, and love, I think, yes very vaguely I can recall such an emotion. But mostly, mostly, I remember my first fight. Every sting."

Sophia wanted to say, 'You lose that one, too?', but she couldn't resort to mental battering now. They had to focus on the topic at hand, which involved cutting the shadows from this man until he begged to answer their questions. Begged. She would settle for nothing less.

"Not, I, no. I don't remember my first fight, or in fact any fight. Only the first sunrise, when I finally opened my eyes. Today, I remember the day I died."

There a reaction. In fact, their cloaked companion even stirred and rose. "We can arrange for you to be killed now, if you wish." They were the first words the three had spoken to each other since Noel's prize had escaped, and it was exactly what Sophia wanted.

"I think, that I may be able to find something to live for again," Sophia practically purred, brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes. "If the organization wills it, that is."

Noel could have puked. "Very well," the voice of their silent captor finally relented. "You remember Clare, do you not?" Sophia, nodded, and behind her she could feel Noel do the same. "And Teresa?"

The sound of Noel's laughter snapped with the cracking flames. "How could we not?" Was it not their purpose for being here? To resurrect her dead flesh?

"Clare took on Teresa's flesh."

Sophia and Noel hit the phase of shock at the same time. Clare being alive was one thing, but he was suggesting a repetition of a manhunt that they didn't wish to engage in again. Neither one wanted to face anyone who could have taken on the body of that goddess of war, let alone when it inhabited the body of a girl who was no doubt seething for revenge. The question then became, 'Why couldn't they send someone else to hunt them?'

"Ileana is dead." Noel spoke the words first. That made them the only people left capable of recalling and doing something with the knowledge of Teresa's existence. Did the organization simply wish their faces to twist in agony as they recalled past events? No. There had to be a far deeper issue that they could not grasp, and the organization must have discovered it recently. "You're going to use Clare's body to resurrect Teresa. It's obvious, but what's not, is why you need us."

Sophia remained quiet, the wheels in her head turning. The answer was right there in front of her, but every time she reached out to grasp it, something tore it away, sending it sprawling into oblivion. "It's quite simple," it said, its mannerism frank. "You're the only ones that can find Clare."

The escaping answer was caught in between Sophia's fingers. Clare had two types of yoma energy: Her own, and Teresa's. Noel and Sophia, in theory, were the only ones that could read the remaining energy of the dead, who may not have been deceased at all. He left them, then, sure that he'd had their attention and their allegiance. Noel cursed under her breath and turned heatedly on Sophia, but was quickly silenced.

"That's not the full story. They need us for something else, too. Anyone can hunt down a person. You don't need to read energy for that." Noel inquired her quietly, but asked no further questions. There was a pressing urge to solve a curiosity that should have died when they'd left the organization. They had no love for Clare or Teresa, and so going about the task was simply a matter of following orders. Wasn't it?