1
Meeko
There arethree rules every omega mouse shifter needs to know:
Number one: Don't trust alphas.
Number two: Only trust family.
Number three: Don't trust anyone.
That's it.
If you're a mouse shifter, life's not complicated. Hide. If you can't hide, run. Keep your head down. Don't get into trouble. Don't fall into water you can't get out of. Don't get caught in a trap. Don't, don't, don't...
And for the love of everything,don't get eaten.
I remember one evening when I was younger, and my family was nestled deep in our tree den in our mouse forms, my omega Da sat me down and said, "Meeko. You're getting older now and it's time for you to learn an important lesson. You're an omega, like me."
I'd nodded.
Da went on. "Alphas are going to approach you and try to ply you with their silver tongues. But you can't listen to anything they say."
I'd blinked. "What about Pa?"
Pa—my alpha father—wriggled his whiskers in amusement as he listened from the back of the den. "We're family. Those rules don't apply to me."
That made me grin. "So I still have to listen when you tell me to go to bed?"
"Yes."
Da smiled, but then turned serious again. "This is important, Meeko. Are you listening to me about alphas?"
I'd tilted my head, trying to understand. I didn't know many alphas in the first place—as a mouse, it was difficult to meet other shifters at all without worrying about getting eaten or crushed or knocked off a ledge or literally anything else—but I was curious about them as a young omega.
"Yes," I'd said. "But Pa is an alpha, and you trust him."
My dads exchanged a tender glance, like they were happy to have such a smart child.
"Of course we trust Pa. He's your father. And your Pa and I were lucky," Da said softly. "We're fated mates."
The phrase fluttered in my chest like a butterfly. It wasn't the first time they'd mentioned being fated mates, but I liked hearing it all the same. It had a magical quality, like finding an acorn on a crisp autumn morning, or waking up to the sweet sounds of spring birdsong.
Pa came up beside Da and nuzzled their cheeks together, whiskers bristling. Da let out a tiny squeak of amusement.
"I'mtryingto teach our son a life lesson here, can you be mushy later?" he said between laughs.
"No."
Da snorted and smushed his paw against Pa's face. "At least go get the sword first."
"Fine."
"Sword?" I asked as my alpha father scurried to the back of the den. He returned carrying a long steel blade in a decorative scabbard. It was forged to perfectly fit a mouse's paws.
"Whoa," I murmured.
Pa handed Da the sword, who then handed it to me.
