My grandmother liked to tell us love stories about werewolves and vampires.

In her stories, a runaway vampire married an alpha wolf, or a wolf searched for adventure in the land of vampires, only to fall in love with the princess, or... I can't remember most of her stories.

Sometimes, everyone ended up just being eaten by a dragon.

Grandma liked vampire stories. They fascinated her. None of us ever met one.

She liked to portray them as heroes.

I often only listened to her at the beginning, until something distracted me, or I couldn't sit still anymore, while my sister pleaded for one story after another.

Grandma was a strict woman. A strict beta-wolf, like dad.

Neither my sister nor I came after them. We were more like our mother.

Alpha wolves.

Mom was the alpha wolf of the pack. Her older sister, Fenna, did not inherit the alpha gene, but we inherited it. Mom and Dad led the pack, and Grandma raised the next alpha of the pack: either my sister or me.

She always got along better with my strong but obedient sister than with me.

When we were little, grandma took care of us every day. She spoiled my sister, her strong angel. She tried to spoil me, too, but I didn't make it easy for her. Instead of being spoiled, I got one punishment after the next.

A good, future alpha could listen, show strength, excellent behavior... Blah, blah, blah. Therefore, she expected obedience from us. Obedience, a strong will, the ability to lead, strength in general... Her demands never made sense to me. Didn't 'obedience' contradict everything else?

She said obedience was different from submission, which was the job of the other pack members. 

I didn't understand that.

She also taught us how to fight.

Young wolves were always wrestling with each other, but she said we had to keep the upper hand and keep a cool head. Concentrate.

I was very good at fighting, but that wasn't enough to satisfy the strict lady. She loved me, of course, but I think she was a bit overwhelmed with me. Especially with my constant 'disobedience' and my lack of concentration.

My head was always in the clouds, as she used to say. And if it hadn't been tight to my body, I would have forgotten it somewhere long ago.

My sister met all the requirements of our strict grandmother. Our parents were always similarly strict with us and praised Juta for every success. But me? They were always a little more lenient and understanding with me. Grandma wasn’t. (Sometimes she argued with mom, saying she was too lenient with me. How am I supposed to become a good alpha wolf? Lead my own pack?)

You see, I didn't annoy her on purpose.

What she wanted, that simply did not work.

I tried to listen, but at some point, something distracted me. Often myself. I tried to sit still, but after a few minutes I was fidgeting. I tried to obey, but often I forgot what to do. I was distracted. Of whatever.

Grandma loved me; she assured me every day. But she was more than just dissatisfied with me, and I felt that, even if she tried not to let me notice it too much.

She died when I was twelve. In the same year, my parents decided that I was not suitable for the position of alpha. Unlike my older sister.

For me, there were two options: subordinate myself to my sister or leave the pack at some point to start my own.

With Grandma’s death, her rules, her stories disappeared...

And with my parents' decision, the pressure that had previously haunted me eased.

I didn't miss Grandma's strictness. I missed her fleeting hugs, the kiss she pressed on my forehead in the evening, and her stories, which I had never quite paid attention to.

Little did I know that Grandma's stories would eventually catch up with me.