Wolves and the Undead

When the first ray of sunlight rose, the five members of the assassination squad left the camp under Darius's lead. All six of them wore black cloaks that wrapped them from head to toe, and no one knew what lay beneath those cloaks.

The six chose no means of transportation, relying instead on their own legs as they strolled leisurely down the road, memorizing every object along the way while their minds raced, mapping out countless routes.

By noon, they had drawn extremely close to enemy territory and could vaguely make out the Orc watchtowers. From this point on, they had to remain fully alert if they wanted to get any closer. As the watchtowers loomed nearer, Darius signaled for the team to stop. "We'll rest here. Go out in pairs and keep watch, switching every two hours. Everyone gathers back here at dusk."

The other four silently checked their equipment, placing whatever they needed most where it could be reached easily. Each of them carried two daggers this time. The Dwarven-made blades were incredibly sharp and light, with a blood groove running down each side. No one knew what material they had been forged from.

As he wiped down his dagger, Darius said, "It's been a long time since I used a weapon. I've relied on my claws so much lately that I'm nearly forgetting how to use one." Looking at the other three, who were also cleaning their weapons, he asked, "Do you know the best way to use a dagger?" The three stared blankly for a moment. One of them uncertainly said, "Stab the throat?" Darius shook his head. Another said, "Slash the throat?" Darius sighed. "We have claws for stabbing and slashing throats. What do we need daggers for? Are you going to give up your claws in battle and fight your enemies with a dagger? This is how you use one." With a flick of his wrist, the dagger shot forward and buried itself straight in the tree trunk ahead, pinning a bat to it.

Alpha stared at Darius in shock. "Isn't using a dagger like that too wasteful? I heard each one costs a fortune." Darius smacked Alpha on the head. "When your life is on the line, what matters more, money or your life? If you're discovered during an assassination, you'll find that your claws can't stop them from shouting. That's when a dagger becomes important. Practice while you have the chance. It might not be much use, but it's still a chance. Go get my dagger back." Alpha clutched his head and ran over amid his companions' snickering. The moment he got a clear look at the bat, his expression turned grave, and he hurriedly brought it back to Darius.

"Boss, look at this bat." Alpha handed the dagger and bat to Darius. After taking the bat, Darius's expression also became serious. The other two looked equally grim when they saw it. It was a gray bat, no different from any other at first glance. But upon closer inspection, one of its wings was torn to shreds like a rag, and no blood flowed from the spot where the dagger had pierced it. Darius said, "Go call the other two. We need to leave immediately. I was careless. This is Horde territory, after all. I should have known those shamans would do something like this."

Ten minutes later, a group of wolf riders arrived. The leader said, "Search! According to the shaman, they're somewhere nearby. The scouting bat lost contact here. Expand the search area!"

Having already left the area behind, Alpha and the others hurried deeper into Horde territory until they reached a high point. "If we'd been one step slower, tonight's plan might have fallen apart," Darius said fearfully as he observed through a telescope. Turning to the five of them, he said, "Same assignments as before, but stay even more alert. Don't overlook even a bird. And practice with your daggers as soon as you can. I have a bad feeling about this."

Time passed slowly. The sun gradually sank in the west, casting fiery red light that dyed the western clouds crimson. The sky darkened bit by bit, until the rising moon brought a faint glimmer of light.

In the darkness, Darius and the others confirmed their respective targets. Darkness posed no obstacle at all to werewolves. Darius said, "That's the plan. Keep your eyes on your own targets. If anything changes, withdraw immediately. Kill as many as you can. Remember your targets. Once you finish your task, don't worry about anyone else. Leave at once and head for the rendezvous point with the main force. And come back alive." "Yes," everyone answered in unison.

The operation began, and they scattered from their positions. Under the moonlight, the werewolves' figures moved faster and faster, constantly darting around the Orc tents.

Alpha's target was a wolf rider commander-in-chief. Dire wolves were everywhere here, making the assassination more difficult. That was true for the others, but for Alpha, it could not have been better. That was why he had volunteered to take this target.

Feeling once more what it was like to become a dire wolf and run across the grasslands, Alpha transformed into a mottled wolf and slowly weaved through the dire wolves. The startled wolf mounts saw that it was just a small wolf—at least, small by their standards, even though Alpha was as large as a calf—then yawned, shifted position, and went back to sleep. Alpha thus made his way unimpeded to the target's tent and slipped inside while the guards were not paying attention.

An ugly green Orc lay on a crude beast-hide carpet, occasionally scratching his chest. Once Alpha confirmed the target, he struck without hesitation. One hand covered the Orc's mouth while the other viciously pierced his throat. Before the wolf rider commander-in-chief could cry out, fresh blood was already gushing forth. With Alpha pressing down on top of him, he could not move at all.

Afterward, Alpha turned back into a small wolf and slowly left, heading for his next target. Assassinations unfolded everywhere at the same time. Whether it was the werewolves' natural advantage or the Orcs simply not caring about assassins, everything was going far too smoothly. After killing his second target, Alpha felt that something was increasingly wrong.

Darius's second target was a shaman high priest. Using the darkness to his advantage, he slowly approached the target's location, killing two patrols along the way. For some reason, a sense of danger kept rising in his heart, and the air here had grown colder. The instant he stepped into the high priest's tent, that sense of danger erupted. He turned and left without hesitation. An arrow slammed into the ground directly in front of his feet.

"What's this? Leaving without even coming in to take a look? Since when did you become such a timid coward, Darius?" a hoarse female voice came from behind him.

The moment Darius heard that voice, he spun around, his face filled with rage as he growled in a low voice, "Sylvanas."

Red eyes, white hair, a black cloak, and pale skin gradually emerged from the darkness. Sylvanas smiled. "It's been a long time, Darius. Is Greymane well? His son has been waiting for him."

Those words instantly ignited Darius's fury. He charged forward recklessly. "You will pay for this." Watching the werewolf pounce at her, Sylvanas sneered. "It seems Greymane is about to lose another one."

As if they had anticipated the werewolves' surprise attack, the others all encountered ambushes after assassinating their first targets. Their ambushers were all Forsaken.

Garrosh had long since climbed atop the main fortress wall. Watching the battle unfold within his own army, he remained utterly unconcerned. "Just as Sylvanas said, the werewolves came to assassinate us." If we sent anyone else to ambush the werewolves, they might not fight. But if the ambushers were Forsaken, they would fight without regard for their lives. It seemed Sylvanas had been right.

Vol'jin, standing beside him, disagreed. "We sacrificed several commanders for just these people. Was it worth it?" Garrosh did not care. "There are no weaklings in my army. If they were assassinated, it only means they were too weak. The weak have no need to live."

As the sounds around him grew louder and louder, Alpha finally understood why he had felt something was wrong. He had also seen the Forsaken—the enemies who had destroyed their homeland.