Even when it could think in words, the creature could not remember its name. 

For the most part, it did not think in words at all. It thought in a jumble of 
prey-smells, lusts, rages, and pains. Long ago, this was all it had known, and 
all it had needed to know -- long ago, when it had been just one hunter in a 
pack, of a race that died out before the Pyramids were envisioned. Died out, 
except for one who had been captured, and forced into different form... 

The creature prowled the tunnels. In one hand, it carried a long staff which it 
no longer needed for walking, and in the other an ancient knife of even greater 
age than he himself. It was unaware of these things as separate from itself; to 
the degree that it was aware of them it thought of them as Longer Claw and Longer 
Arm. It was unaware of one moment of time as separate from another; in its mind 
nothing separated the moment when it last felt bones crunching beneath its jaws 
and hot blood spurting across its tongue from the next moment the hunt would 
bring it those things. 

And yet some part of it remembered, and wept. Sometimes the mental fog generated 
by the laughing, evil presence in its head would lift, and in the stillness there 
would come a desperate pleading: Remember. You were more than this. Remember the 
One who took you in. Remember the bravery of a man who volunteered his life for 
those he loved. Remember a cool cloth soothing your fever when you were weak and 
ill. Remember a soft bed and clean smells. Remember the smile on her face, the 
face of... Remember forgiveness in pale blue eyes, remember her voice, 
remember... 

Somewhere in the tunnels, a creature without a name sobbed.