ROLES

001

By all normal standards, I am a good daughter. As the second youngest of six, it was always hard to fight for my parents' attention. While it hurt growing up, it led me to become close to my grandma. Now, at twenty years old, I live with her. My place is her life is a double role of both favorite grandchild live in caretaker.

In all reality, she could probably manage well enough on her own. I could also care for her at my parents' house, like my father has been insisting for months. But my grandma and I are two old souls. Only difference is she has the age to match it. The commotion and constant noise are too much for her, so we live together in quiet company.

By all normal standards, I am a daughter my parents can be proud of. Problem is, I'm not normal. I am a shapeshifter, a lycanthrope, a werewolf.

According to my oldest brother, I'm a lousy one.

Most werewolves have their first shift from twelve to fourteen. I was seventeen. I have always been small. At least a head shorter than my siblings, front row for all class pictures, and weaker than everyone in my pack. My parents have been careful to not treat me differently, but I've heard the sneers from my classmates.

I know what I am. Runt.

My genetic predisposition isn't something I'm ashamed of. Being a runt isn't even part of my identity.

I'm just Juniper.

I love helping others, I love a cup of earl grey tea in the morning, and I love my best friends. My weak wolf doesn't even put me low on the totem pole as far as ranks go in my pack.

I'm lucky for that. Most runts are outcasted and reduced to remedial tasks in traditional packs. As the nearby city has modernized, so did we. Our values have evolved so much that we've had female alphas in the past, and this kind of forward thinking has allowed me to start a healer apprenticeship.

"Juno, please don't tell me you're going to keep your nose in that book this entire time," Nina sighs as she sets a cup of tea down in front of me.

"Be careful! Don't get the pages wet," I exclaim when drops of liquid escape and threaten my textbook. "I bet this thing is older than the both of us combined."

"I don't know why you're so eager on racing through your lessons. You have years to master being a healer, and I bet all this cramming isn't good for retention."

"I just want to be prepared for the ambassadors from Cove Crest."

"Oh yeah," Nina stretches out on the couch and places her feet in my lap. Effectively blocking me from reading the chapter on the most common types of training injuries. "My mom and dad are in ultra-planning mode. I'm over it to be honest."

"I thought you loved ambassador visits. It gives you an excuse to break out your red lipstick at formal dinners."

"They were fun when we were younger and would dare each other to touch people to try to find our mate. Now I feel like an old married woman." Nina complains as if she wasn't hopelessly in love with her mate. "Plus, Adrien is out visiting other packs. I'll be alone while everyone else discusses new defense strategies or something equally as boring."

Where I have always been a late bloomer, Nina has been an early one. My grandma used to joke that we were the perfect example of opposites attracting. She was the first one to shift in our grade, while I was the last.

She met her mate, Adrien, the fall of our junior year. He was part of a caravan of ambassadors from small packs in the south making a stop in our pack for the regional conference. At twenty-one, he seemed so grown up compared to two sixteen-year-old girls. Now, I'm about to be the same age as Adrien when he first met Nina. Only, I haven't met my mate yet.