“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.

” The voice was deep and gravelly, as if most of the parts

that made it had rotten away years ago. Not an unlikely theory. Kath's head was hanging down, her
arms spread high above her and her wrists tied to the wall behind her. The Forsaken in front of her
pushed her head up by her chin and grinned at her through rotting teeth. She glared back. “So, tell
me, what's an SI:7 officer doing on her own in Forsaken lands?”
“Nothing that would interest you.” She replied.
“I find that unlikely. You see, when we caught you, you were trying to skip the border to Gilneas. I
am charged with overseeing activity in that general area, so when someone of your rank tries to get
in, that makes it my business, and as a result, I am very interested.”
“Spiritual journey, of sorts.” The Forsaken beat her in the face. She winced and hung her head low
again, a trickle of blood falling down into a pool of water below her. She noticed in her reflection
how awful she looked: she had lost about a third of her weight, and had managed to look even paler.
Her hair was filthy and unkempt. She had cuts and bruises all over her face, and her eyes were
almost completely yellow. The last one in particular scared her the most.
“Very well, if you won't cooperate willingly,” the Forsaken continued “then we will have to be a
little bit more persuasive. Unfortunately, we cannot raise your kind, Worgen, but that does mean that
at the end of this, we don't need to worry too much about the state of your body. I think we should
draw this out a bit, extend our fun. Corporal? I'm thinking her ring finger.”
One of the other corpses walked over to her left hand, and took hold of her fingers, spreading them
apart. Kath looked at the Forsaken corporal, a tinge of fear in her eyes. The soldier seemed to be
carrying nothing in his hands that could be used as a torture device, not on first glance, anyway.
However, that brief glimmer of hope quickly faded as he brought not a knife or a branding iron or
anything else to her left ring finger, but his teeth.

Kath screamed, loudly, as the Forsaken bit her finger, digging through the skin, the flesh, and
eventually crunching through the bone. And as he screamed, the commander continues. “Corporal
Rotten here has developed quite a taste for the flesh of Worgen scum, in either form.” The corporal
took a few steps backwards, chewing on the severed finger, it crackling and crunching between his
teeth. Kath was gritting her own, biting back the tears. Searing pain had engulfed her entire arm, as
she looked up at where blood was gushing out of the gap where her left ringfinger used to be.
“Now, there's not too much on you, but I'm sure he'll savour what scraps we can pry off of you
before you tell us what we want to know. So my advice, don't play games.”
Kath was breathing heavily, and growling. The fear, the frustration, even the pain was slowly
ebbing away as it all made place for what she knew was a bout of sheer, mindless rage. “Do you
guys take a lot of Worgen prisoners?” She felt her humanity draining. The beast waking up, and it
was angry. It overpowered her thoughts, her emotions, and with them, her body. She felt her hands
twitching, her remaining fingers growing long, their claws sharp. She was vaguely aware of how
she feared being unable to snap out of it this time.
“We usually kill the local rebels on sight. But you're different. You know stuff we want to-”
“Figured” She uttered in a low, growling voice, and she pulled her arms loose from the wall. She
landed on her hands and finished her transformation. The last thing she noticed as everything turned
read was leaping towards the Forsaken commander.