"What I know for sure is that speaking your truth is the most powerful tool we all have." Oprah Winfrey

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lived a princess Greta couldn't care less about.

Greta didn't care about the stories of magical slippers, clocks striking midnight, curses and damnations. The stories with wicked step-mothers, evil rulers, a charming prince, a duel for marriage, or a quest for love? It was all a bit...schmaltzy.

She had to focus her time where it mattered - not the subtle manipulations of societal expectations disguised in a whimsical fairy-tale.

Running her nimble fingers over the spines of her weathered and beloved books, Greta smiled at her copies of mystery novels. No, she didn't grow up wanting a prince's hand in her own - she grew up wanting a magnifying glass and a crime to solve. She grew up wanting mischief, and often causing it.

Her brothers were her first target, as with any siblings. Her parents quickly learned that she had to keep busy, or she'd turn her devious antics onto them. They'd suffered a number of pranks at her hand when she was bored.

Greta was bored now.

She'd been bored for months, but this was out of her control. Her world had been shut down for years, living in fear, but freed since the death of the Shifter King, Augustina. She was a ruthless killer and ruled them all under an iron grip, and when she was killed last year, they all flourished once more.

Then, three months ago, all the packs shut down again when the werewolves were attacked at their heart - their luna mates slaughtered in their own home. All the other shifters sealed their borders because the killer had escaped, and feared the Huntress would find their loved ones as well, but Greta wasn't one to live in fear.

Three months of silence. She was patient, she was cunning, but she was so completely bored, and when she heard the bathroom's plumbing echo throughout the house she couldn't stop the cutting smile on her face. Her boredom reached out in entertaining ways, and unfortunately her brother Arthur had teased her yesterday for her sharp cheekbones, so he was the victim of her pranks today.

She tended to her bookshelf, making sure her books remained pristine. Their pages still glistened with the pale glow of a new print and there were no blunted edges of her few, prized hardbacks. Once, her youngest brother Trevor took vengeance from one of her pranks by ripping one of the dust jackets off her book.

Greta had hated him since. And Trevor hated her, in turn, when she retaliated to his cruel, heartless torture of her beloved pages by smearing melted chocolate on the outside of his trousers, right in the seams.

He hadn't noticed until the late afternoon, but it was enough for the whole pack to see him in his 'soiled' pants.

Greta was quite proud of that prank, and she was reminded of it each time she saw the naked hardback of her sparkling crime novel on the shelf.

She heard the bathroom plumbing echo through the house once more, and knew her other brother, Arthur, was still coming to terms with the prank on him. She wanted the thrill, the joy of laughter afterwards, that gotcha moment that happened at the end of each mystery, and each prank.

He had it coming.

Greta was a wiffox, a fox shifter, and heiress to her mother's rule. She was tall, lithe, with sharp facial features, a nose that jutted out a tad too far, and a cutting smile like a knife - and a wit to match. Her patience was a mountain but every mountain eroded with the wind.

Arthur had been commenting on her cheekbones, making those normal teasing remarks that happened between siblings, but he learned when he woke up this morning that Greta had ammunition – and learned, once again, to not mess with his big sister.

Greta quickly kicked the empty box under the bed when her door was knocked upon, and looked up innocently at her father staring her down.

He saw his eldest daughter perched on the end of her bed, a duster in hand like she'd been clearing her bookshelf before he walked in. Her back was straight, face open to whatever he was about to say – and yet, there was the glint of mischief in her whisky-brown eyes when the sound of their bathroom plumbing echoed through their home again.

"Greta," he greeted with his naturally deep, bass voice. "My office, please."

"Of course." Greta blinked. "Is everything alright?"

Her father glared at her. "Don't be coy."

Greta opened her mouth to reply but he stepped into the hall. "Arthur! Stop using all the hot water!" His deep voice boomed, shaking the books on her shelf.

"Dad!" Arthur's voice wasn't as commanding as their father's but the message was clear. The water stopped running, and her dad glared at her one more time, waved at her to follow, and was quickly marching to his office.

Greta jumped off the bed, closing the door to her clean and organised room before making her way to the office. She knew for certain, and by certain she meant she was pretty sure, why she was being called in. As she passed the family photos hanging on the wall – her family of five always filled the frame with boisterous antics – Greta steeled herself for what the conversation would hold.

Her eyes ran over the plaque on her father's open door, Private Study - Adam, before settling on him already sitting at his desk.

He wasn't smiling as she entered, shutting the door behind her, and stood in front of the desk. Silence enveloped them both, neither one breaking first. No one said anything for minutes. It stretched long enough that Greta could hear the guards patrolling outside, young kids from her pack playing in the nearby park, and her mother on the phone in the office next door.

"How are you, Greta?" her dad asked, submitting first. His formality, however, brought a wide smile to her face.

"Perfectly well, thank you father." Their playful formality was an inside joke that began when she was a young trickster in her crib. The more polite his tone, the more in trouble she was.

"That's delightful to hear, I'm so pleased to hear it." His jaw was clenched together tightly, practically spitting every word.

"Thank you, how are you faring as well?" Greta's smile was slowly falling off her face.

"Well, you see, not too brilliantly." Her dad shifted his large weight, the chair squeaking at the un-oiled hinges.

"Oh?" Greta swallowed, but wouldn't break the innocent, curious expression on her face. "Whatever could be the matter?"

"I found evidence that someone tampered with, what I thought, were my unopened letters."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Someone appeared to have read them, and then resealed them."

"...Oh?"

"Yes, but they were unaware that the glue used was expired. It was peeling at the edges and gave them away."

"Oh..." She was in a lot of trouble.

"Greta, your curiosity is going to kill me faster than your mother's cooking will!" he snapped, holding the torn up envelope in a shaking fist.

"What makes you think it was me?!"

"Greta."

"Okay, it was me." It was better to admit defeat on your own terms rather than have them forced on you. You could bow out with grace, and Greta's innocent expression dropped as she reluctantly did so.

"It's going to get you killed one day when you peek around the wrong corner and cut your damn pesky nose off!" Her dad slammed the envelope back on the desk, and deflated as his anger left him. He was never one to stay angry for long; by the time you worked him up to a fit, he'd thought it through and wouldn't act on it. Greta had inherited that from him, along with her dark eyes.

"Okay, I'll stop."

"You won't stop. You'll just get better at not being caught."

"...Yes." Greta knew honesty was her best policy. Honesty, and pranks.

He sighed. "I don't mind your curiosity Greta, I really don't, but you need to learn when you're being curious, and being intrusive. You can't read my letters. They're sealed and addressed to me."

"Actually, that one I read wasn't addressed to you." Greta pointed at the torn envelope in his grasp. "It has an alpha's seal on it. It was addressed to this family, and as an alpha, I am allowed to read it."

His expression fell, eyes going cold. "Who is the head of this family, Greta?"

"Mum."

"Who is the head of the clan?" he asked instead, speaking for the collective of fox-shifters under the care of the alpha.

The alpha, however, was the same. "Still Mum."

"...Who is the head of everything else?"

"Alpha Maxine, also known as Mum," she answered.

"Dammit Greta–"

"Dad, you know fox-shifters are matriarchal, you know she's in charge, and you know one day I will be too. You know I'll always follow my nose and you know it's always worked out for good reason." Greta pointed at the letter she'd opened last night when he'd been sleeping. "So let's talk about the letter, because that's why you called me here."

"About the werewolf alphas making a call to everyone for substitute lunas while they hunt down a mass murderer?" He was blunt, their formal charade was gone, and now it was straight to business. He was the luna to Mum's alpha, even though fox shifters didn't have lunas, and he was the one who went through a majority of their paperwork while Mum managed the practical side of things – she would rather dance on hot coals than go through any of his stacks of paper.

"You want to send me," Greta said, and took the seat in front of the desk. "Does Mum agree?"

"She thinks it'll be good training for you when you take over." He pointed to the wall that he shared with her office. "She's already on the phone to other alpha shifters, seeing what they're doing, and who is going where."

Greta noted his clipped tone. "You don't like this idea."

"I think it'll be good trouble for you," he said and motioned to the torn envelope.

"Well, why not both?"

"Greta," he reprimanded.

She only shrugged. "So the werewolf alphas are after temporary lunas until their packs get back on their feet after...after the incident."

"You're referring to the serial murder of the seven lunas? That incident?"

"They might not like it brought up in that way."

"You'll go?" Her dad seemed to blink in surprise.

"I'm not given much choice. They're after lunas. There aren't many shifters around, and even less that are natural alphas. We have, what, myself?" She began to count on her long, nimble fingers. "Ripley too? And Dominique-"

"Ripley nor Dominique are lunas."

"Dominique is, I think." Greta defended her friend but her dad waved it off.

"The difference is, you're the heiress here but your mother is still in power and comfortable leading." He motioned to her. "You're comfortable where you are too, but this will give you a little room to get out of the den."

"What? Have I been bothering you, father dear?"

He merely gestured to the stack of paperwork next to him. "Greta, in the last month I've had seventy complaints from pack members about you sneaking past patrols for fun, scaring them for fun, and someone has been sneaking into the kitchens and food has been going missing."

"Dad, come on, really? 'Food going missing'? Who does that sound like to you?"

He paused and then shook his head. "Trevor," they said in unison. He looked deep into her eyes, attempting to be intimidating. "What about your mother's missing locket?"

"No comment," Greta said, despite the silver chain peeking out from beneath her t-shirt.

"My paintball gun?"

"No comment." It was on the top shelf of her wardrobe.

"And what's this I hear about your brother's hair being dyed green?" Greta couldn't stop the smile this time. The plumbing had stopped echoing through the house but it was so satisfying knowing he'd had at least three showers and the dye hadn't budged. She'd have to buy more of that brand and quickly get rid of the empty box under her bed.

"He was envious of my obviously more attractive appearance." Greta's smile was wide, she knew it, but it did soften her sharper features and make her less mischievous. "I just made his feelings more obvious to everyone."

"...You do love a challenge, don't you Greta?"

"Absolutely."

He held up the torn envelope again. "So you accept the job as the werewolf's luna until their pack is back on their feet?"

A cold feeling trickled down her spine and the smile immediately left her face. "That's not a challenge Dad, that's not a game."

"No," he agreed. "No it isn't. This is you seeing someone reach out for help and accepting, asking what they need, and doing it. This is responsibility, kindness, and compassion. This is something we can't teach you as parents, or as alphas. It's something you need to learn."

Greta swallowed the weight of his words. She'd been stuck in the den for the past few months, and even prior to that, their world was fragile and healing with the King's rule dying out. She had been sheltered from war and violence, she hadn't seen the worst of it, but there was a haunted look in her father's eyes that prevented her sarcastic reply from leaving her narrow lips.

Instead, she focused on the contents of the envelope; that hand-written letter from desperate and powerful werewolves. "Whose pack am I going to?"

"That's where it gets complicated. The letter was sent on behalf of all the alphas–"

"I know. I read the letter."

She earned a glare at the interruption. "–of the seven werewolf packs, all seven had their lunas murdered." He swallowed at the tragedy, still so raw for all of them.

His gaze moved to the map of their land on the wall, showing their corner of the world, and all the shifter packs that lay scattered throughout. He brought out the laser pointer from the drawer in his desk; an early birthday present from her mother.

His eyes lit up as the green light bounced off the map. "Matthias' pack is north-bound, broad, arctic, and he has four kids. His closest allies are the lynx-shifters, as his former luna was a Canadian Lynx. Kim is his neighbour, three days from us in the mountains, and he shares his coastline with the albatrosses. Beneath them is Dev, he recently claimed more territory in his jungle, but his sister and her family are stepping into the luna position to help him out. Lincoln is ruling the beaches, Muhammad is in the desert, and his neighbour Zuberi is in the oasis but you should know he has nine kids.

"And then, there's Ray." The laser pointer hovered over their land, their forest, where further south the stronghold for the seventh werewolf pack lay. "Ray died in the incident, as you so eloquently put it. He and his luna had a son, but he'd only be two now. His brother-in-law Beau is the alpha at the moment. He's further south to us. The rest of the map is either neutral ground, or more shifter territory, as you know."

Greta nodded slowly as she processed the information. "So Beau's the only one on that list who's suddenly come into the position of both alpha and father? How far away is he?"

He smiled. "I knew you'd pick him."

Greta shrugged. "He's the only one without alpha training. Seeing as I'm one of the few who is, it makes sense to go to him and help him out – and you didn't answer my question."

"Nothing escapes from under your nose; he's a few hours away if you walk. You can get there by tomorrow afternoon quite comfortably." He clicked off the laser pointer, the sound of it hitting the desk echoed through the office. The silence was welcome as the news of what Greta was about to do settled in her chest.

"How long will I be gone for?" she said quietly, a part of her wishing the torn envelope was never opened.

"A few months, probably," he speculated, knowing Greta appreciated the raw truth. "Until the alpha deems the pack stable again, when they can take over their full duties, or even when they find a new luna permanently."

"A few months?"

"Greta." Her dad leaned on his elbows, his hands clasped together over his desk. "You've been locked down in the den for the past few months already since the seven were murdered, and you know why we all, all of us shifters, had to hunker down."

She bristled under the unblinking stare. "The killer's still out there, I know."

"Yes, you do – what you're going into is a raw, painful environment. This is the after-effect of a brutal tragedy, Greta. This isn't something that's going to take a weekend, let alone a few weeks. This is a long commitment and it will test you."

She cocked her head to the side, still rigid at how her dad stared her down. She hated being stared down like she was a child in need of educating. Greta was in her early twenties, she was a grown adult, and the child-like lectures weren't needed anymore. She was also an alpha; and what alphas hated most above all was being undermined. "Mum thinks this will be good for me?" Greta's return stare was as cold as her voice.

He looked away and the discomfort eased. "You're driving everyone mad here. You're bored – you've been cooped up for too long, and your mother knows you've been holding back on the pranks."

She could feel the apples of her cheeks burn. "I didn't realise she noticed."

"She knows you inside out, Greta." Her dad smiled. "She knew you went out on runs with the patrols, even that you learned to tend to the flowerbeds, look at the power tools in the shed, studied her cookbooks – you did every task imaginable before you resorted to the pranks."

She looked out the window where she glimpsed the patrols walking past again. She took up the patrol runs to get out of the house. She'd read all her books, some more than once, and cleaned, cooked, planted, and even used her fair share of power tools before she saw the box of neon green hair dye and used it on Arthur when he teased her.

Arthur was soft-hearted. He was kind, tender and caring, and his hair was as fair as his skin. Yet, after three months stuck in the same den, unable to venture beyond their borders, he was antsy – and it came out in remarks that crossed the line.

If someone pushed her, she pushed back harder. If someone needed anything, she was there with two hands free. Greta was an alpha – naturally defending those who couldn't defend themselves and helping out those that needed it.

The werewolf alphas needed help, and Greta would accept their outstretched hand, if only to get out of seeing the same four walls.

"I leave tomorrow, then," she said, her voice stronger, more assured of her choice, of what she was signing up for.

Her dad smiled. There was a glint in his eyes that she knew she'd inherited. She saw it in the mirror when she pranked someone, or succeeded in more subtle ways. "Look at you, all grown up."

"Dad, I'm twenty-two."

"I still remember when you were born, you were so small in my arms, and you were shrieking like a banshee–"

"Okay!" She cut him off and they both laughed. As their laughter eased, Greta reached forward and took the envelope. There were still remnants of that treacherous expired glue under the seal, and the rough edges of the torn paper brushed her fingertips. "I'll go and pack."

"You still have to apologise to your brother."

"No."

"Greta, his hair is green!"

"And?!" Greta laughed. "Come on, you can't say it's not funny. It's a semi-permanent anyway! It'll be gone by the time I'm back."

His stern expression held for a mere second before the smile broke through. "Okay, yes, it's funny, and it serves him right for lashing out in a verbally harmful manner."

"Thank you."

"But you should talk to him and tell him it's not permanent. He hasn't left the bathroom in two hours."

Greta paused. "I'll tell him tomorrow."

"Greta."

"It's funny!"

"Greta."

"Fine, fine, I'll tell him." Greta stood and opened the door, smiling at her father. He was leaning back in the chair, satisfied that the discussion had gone well and Greta was prepared for what she had signed up for.

Greta was satisfied as well. As she closed the door and walked back to her room, she knew her dad was still smiling as he looked to the stack of complaints on his desk – and the smile would fall when he realised Greta had got away without punishment.

She was perceptive. Her father was right, nothing escaped once it was under her nose. The best pranksters were observant, sharp, and fast. Greta had over two decades perfecting her craft, honing her talents, and putting her traits into practice throughout her education.

Greta was a wiffox and an alpha – and she was ready for her next lesson in the heart of the werewolf pack.

~

1) The Shifter King, Augustina, is a woman. King is a gender-neutral term, meaning "ruler", and not registered specifically. There have been female kings within our own history, like Hatshepsut and Cleopatra VII for example, both Egyptian Pharaohs, so both Kings of Egypt. 

2) Greta dying Arthur's hair green to "make his feelings obvious" is a reference to the saying, 'green with envy'. Greta basically turned him into the Grinch. 

3) In this world, I'm treating Alpha and Luna like Doctor and Nurse. Both require training and experience within different medical fields, but it is both a title and a profession. It's not something you're born into, you can be from a family of alphas and not be an alpha, like you could be born into a family of doctors and not become a doctor. It's not really a 'scent' or anything normally written in werewolf novels - it might get confusing but I'll happily explain further as we go. 

Let me know what you think! 

Libby x