The elders of his pack had warned him:

  “Never go beyond the mountains where humans live.”

  But those hateful bastards were also to blame for the fact that he was now forced to ignore that same warning.

  There was no place for him in the Roaring Mountains anymore.

  In fact, he had no place in the world. He could have dropped dead on the spot, let the snow cover him completely, and no one would know the difference.

  To his own kind he was an outcast, to everyone else a legend or a creature to be hunted.

  It would be better to die right here, he thought, while hiding in a hole among the rocks, to protect himself from the intense blizzard and the biting cold.

  What was the point of continuing?

  He would never be more than a defective being, an object of pity or disdain. His existence was meaningless. He was of no use to anyone, he had nothing of value to offer. That was the reason he had been abandoned to his fate.

  It is not fair. It's not fair. He never did anyone any harm. He only wanted to exist in peace with others, to play with his brothers, to be recognized by his peers, to have his own family, to enjoy the sun, the wind, all the colors of the mountain. Nothing simpler and, at the same time, so difficult to achieve.

  But why? Why?

  Why did things have to be like this? Who had decided it? Why it was he the one who had to die? Why couldn't the others die?

  The thought suddenly assaulted him.

  That was forbidden. It defied everything he had been taught.

  But he didn't belong to the pack anymore.

  He was alone.

  An unexpected flame ignited in the center of his chest and spread to the rest of his body. Immediately, he stopped feeling cold.

  He had found his purpose.

  When the storm was over, still in his fox form, he began his descent down the mountainside. As he made his way through the rugged terrain, jumping from rock to rock, and later into the dense forest, his plan took shape, and his determination grew stronger.

  Someday the others would regret having looked down on him. He would become the strongest chimera of all, and when he returned with them, his head held high, they would be forced to bow theirs. They would beg him for mercy but, when he refused, they would realize that it was too late to repent for the injustice they had done.

  But for all that to happen he first had to take revenge on the humans.

  And what better way to begin than by sneaking into that immense castle that stood at the foot of the mountain, right in the middle of two territories that belonged to rival elven families.

  From afar, the castle seemed impenetrable with its imposing stone walls and watchtowers. Between the battlements it was possible to distinguish the small silhouettes of armed rows of soldiers, watching attentively like hawks.

  As he approached the gigantic iron gate he observed an incessant flow of people coming in and out in a chaotic whirl of pungent sweat and excrement, mixed with the rancid scent of tanned leather, the stench of beasts of burden and the metallic touch of men's tools and weapons.

  And none of them possessed enough imagination to notice the presence of such an unusual creature as he.

  In order to go unnoticed, he had no choice but to abandon the fox form which until then had helped him to survive in the mountains.

  The mouse form was much more convenient. He could look for a hole at the base of the wall, big enough to let him through

  But it seemed more fun to go through the inmense gate under the noses of the soldiers themselves, who did not pay attention to the presence of the tiny rodent, or did not give it enough importance.

  Even so, his boldness almost cost him his life, being almost crushed by one of the countless boots and cart wheels that were pouring in and out of the place.

  Lesson learned, don't get carried away by arrogance.

  As a good hunter the next step was to gather information about their habits, their strengths and, above all, their weaknesses. Once that stage was completed, he would know what he had to do.

  At first he felt a little lost. No sooner had he crossed the entrance gate, than he found himself in a wide cobblestone space surrounded by several buildings. He didn't know where to start until, suddenly, among the disgusting smells of men and horses, he could distinguish one that made him raise his nose.

  He had never smelled anything so wonderful. It was roasted meat, similar to when he sat around the fire, accompanied by the rest of his pack, but there was something else, unknown to him.

  Driven by a voracious hunger, which he had been trying to ignore since he had been left alone on the mountain, he pursued that delicious aroma that led him to the door of a warm and bustling room, inside which he observed several women, with stained aprons and sweaty bodies, moving among tables and stoves.

  He had to stop in the doorway, dazed by the explosion of new smells that was making him unusually dizzy. That carelessness earned him a heavy blow that sent him back outside, and almost to the next life. One of the maidservants had seen the mouse trying to enter the kitchen, and had kicked the poor creature without any consideration.

  This is not going to stay like this, thought the mouse, and he tried again several times, trying to cross that first obstacle without being seen. However, after the third failed attempt, a gray cat appeared out of nowhere, and chased him all over the enclosure, until he managed to sneak through a tiny hole in the wall that saved him from a deadly swipe.

  He changed his strategy. First he had tried not to be seen, now he had to be seen.

  He decided, therefore, to become a cat. After studying how the maidservants, especially the younger ones, were fond of these fat and lazy beings, and even gave them small pieces of food.

  The problem was that he had never tried that shape before. In the mountains he had come across wild cats, and had some notion about them, but a domestic cat was something else, so it would take him a few days of practice until he could do it. For that he had to look for a corner outside the castle, near some frozen puddle where he could see the reflection of his transformed body. In the meantime, to appease his hunger, he contented himself with crumbs of bread or fruit that the soldiers dropped as they passed by.

  It was not easy to find the right size or appearance. If someone had discovered him in one of his first attempts, they would have been shocked to come face to face with a grotesque jumble of undefined shapes that was halfway to what he wanted to achieve. Later he was able to transform, but in parts. There were moments when he looked like a new species of giant furry rodent and, at others, a cat with the head and tail of a mouse. Either of those scenes would have raised the alarm flags, forcing him to escape as soon as possible.

  Finally, after several days and countless tests, he returned to the kitchen in his new form. For the occasion, he had chosen a perfect orange color, which immediately achieved the astonishing result of being greeted by a series of exclamations, uttered by the maids, who, as soon as they saw him, approached to pet him. Everyone wondered where the magnificent cat had come from, and even assumed that he had walked from the village, or had hidden in a wagon.

  In order to carry out his deception he had taken his time to study the behavior of the other cats, not as beautiful as he was. He didn't actually like the idea, but he knew that to get what he wanted he had to start rubbing against the women's filthy clothes and purring in the most outrageous way possible. Then he threw himself on his belly and the girls didn't wait to caress him all over.

  It was unbearable but necessary.

  And it worked. That first show of false affection earned him a delicious piece of meat that became the first bite of many. Not only was he not kicked out of the kitchen, but apparently, to his embarrassment, he became their most precious pet.

  At first, it was nothing more than pats or caresses, but soon their affection became bold and relentless. They even cooed to him as if he were a baby and sang him pathetic melodies that competed to see which could become more degrading.

  Actually, if he had to be honest with himself, he didn't need to transform into a cat to gather information about humans. He could have visited every corner of the castle, if he had wanted to, in his mouse form.

  Ah, but the food...

  Before he got there, he didn't know there could be so much variety. He had learned most of the words by listening to the cooks: beef, pork, venison, wild boar, pheasant, partridge, rabbit, duck, all stuffed with herbs, fruits and spices, seasoned with oil or vinegar, garnished with dried fruits or nuts; not to mention hot soups, vegetable and legume stews, freshly baked bread, cheese from different regions, fresh fruit, almond and honey pies, accompanied by wine and beer.

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  Every day, on silver trays, those delicacies went out the door, of which he could only taste the leftovers that returned at the end of each breakfast, lunch or dinner, and that were also enjoyed by the same servants, who, like him, caught on the fly a piece of each meal and even a glass of unfinished drink.

  As the weeks went by, while the winter was still raging outside, thanks to his new diet he even felt stronger. Much stronger than he had ever felt before. His movements were becoming increasingly agile and every fiber of his muscles tensed in anticipation of his next transformation. Maybe it was time to continue his training. He had always wanted to transform into something large and with great attack power, like a bear or a wolf.

  When the snow melted, perhaps he would go into the forest, though that did not give him any reassurance, since it was elven territory and, like all magical beings, any of them could discover his true nature quite easily. He had already risked enough after crossing the border between the forest and the mountains.

  In the case of humans, only those who were referred to as "wizards" could have any chance of recognizing him. That was why he had to be very careful when he walked around the courtyard, since there was always the possibility of being forced to retreat if one of them decided to make a sudden appearance.

  Listening carefully from his sheltered place in the kitchen, he had learned to recognize them by their clothing, which made things much easier for him. The young apprentices wore brown and blue robes. He didn't have to worry about those, apparently they didn't have enough power. The danger lay in the red ones.

  Not a day went by that the maids did not complain about the arrogance of the wizards, whose whims and abuses were limited thanks to the intervention of the lord of the land, who, apparently, did not allow mistreatment.

  Other castles were not as fortunate. The girls had heard rumors: wizards who forced servants to help them in their experiments, such as sorting tiny grains of sand or searching for strange ingredients in the most hidden and dangerous places. At the slightest mistake they were severely punished with the whip and they could even experiment with them the effect of their potions. The Council of Wizards was supposed to control them, but sometimes the ruling came too late and the victim ended up succumbing to terrible fevers and convulsions whose only relief was death.

  That was unthinkable in Shadowrock Castle, home of the Guardian of the Circle, protector of all the people who resided there, magical or not.

  Still, fortunately for him, even in that idyllic place the wizards did not mingle with the servants.

  When he wasn't in the kitchen, he was inspecting the surroundings. By now everyone had grown accustomed to his presence, and he never returned from his rounds without someone giving him some leftovers from their lunch.

  In this way he got to know the armory, a dark place full of shelves with sharp swords, spears, arrows and shields.

  In their workshop, blacksmiths worked in the scorching heat of the furnace, shaping iron pieces with rhythmic hammering accompanied by the crackling sound of metal plunging into cold water.

  The stables were more bustling. There, the smell of hay and sweat prevailed. The horses whinnied and neighed as the grooms brushed their backs, checked the horseshoes and prepared the saddles amid lively conversations. In contrast, the soldiers' barracks was a more austere place, constantly inspected by a tall, red-haired captain with a serious look and meticulous movements who did not allow a single bunk to be left untended or a dagger to be misplaced.

  Everywhere, like clovers, the emblem of the castle sprouted on objects, flags and walls. It was a shield divided vertically into two halves by a sword behind which a dark tower emerged from a rock. On the left side was drawn a black tree, bare of leaves, on a white background, while the right side represented the opposite, a white tree on a black background where a silver crescent moon rose.

  There was something supposedly written that he was not able to read and he had to wait a while until one day a little boy asked one of the soldiers who with inflated pride replied that it was the Shadowrock's motto: “Night's burden we hold.”

  Ridiculous. Humans had a great capacity to lie to themselves. No one could hold the night that loomed over every creature no matter how great or important it believed itself to be.

  There was another place that caught his attention, although he could only enter it at night, when the only people in the courtyard were the soldiers on guard duty.

  It was a small building with a high ceiling, at the back of which stood the statue of a huge woman wearing a sleeveless tunic and a crown of flowers on her head. She was sculpted standing with her arms stretched upwards as if she were dancing. Humans seemed to be very interested in that place. He could see them walking in and staying there for hours.

  He did not know exactly what they would do in inside, but later he could confirm that it was a temple dedicated to the Nymph Nemertyss, who was none other than one of the causes of the great war between the clans of the Prairie and the Forest. That, surely, must not have been very amusing to the elves.

  Chimeras, on the other hand, had no deities to pray to. Instead, they worshipped the mountains, the wind that blew between them, the rivers that crossed them, the cycle of the seasons, and the moon and sun that appeared and hid behind their peaks. Each chimera was considered part of a greater Whole, and its only task was to coexist in balance with nature. No temples, statues or emblems were needed.

  The one place he did not have the courage to enter was the main residence of the Count of Shadowrock, in which also lived his daughter and the wizards. That was the only great obstacle in his ambitious plan, and he had to think very well on how to solve it, because, after all, the great weapon that the humans had against chimeras was their sacrilegious magic, which had forced his race to go deeper and deeper into the heart of the mountain, far from all the rest.

  On a few occasions he caught a glimpse of the Count from afar, on horseback going through the great iron and wooden gate. He was a tall, muscular-looking man, with black hair and beard, with a few gray locks. The chimera could not see his eyes, but the maids, who kept sighing at his presence, kept talking about his beautiful sea-blue eyes.

  The chimera did not know the sea. Perhaps someday he would dare to approach the man and see for himself, just to satisfy his curiosity.

  Everyone held the Count in high esteem. He was, they said, an honorable man who professed great love for his daughter and showed kindness to all his servants, regardless of whatever role they performed. Perhaps the only thing close to a criticism was that he was too protective of the girl, who was seen less and less in those days. But, of course, they added, she was all he had in the world, since the poor dear countess had died seventeen years ago.

  And now he was about to lose his daughter, who since her first cry had been betrothed to the crown prince. During the last days, her marriage, which would probably take place after the arrival of spring, was the central topic of conversation, since the maids were envious of those chosen ones who would take care of their mistress once she went to live in the capital.

  It was also said that she spent a lot of time with her mentor, probably studying magic, for which she showed great skills, in addition to other necessary knowledge that would be useful to her as a future princess and, eventually, queen.

  Perhaps when the Lord and his entourage headed for the capital, the castle would be much quieter, and the cat would have more of a chance to explore it. Although he was also seduced by the idea of hiding among the luggage and leaving with them. It was a risky choice. He could not imagine what a city full of humans could be like, much bigger than that castle that already seemed too huge for him.

  He was not sure. He was actually pondering the matter, when, without warning, the Count's daughter appeared in the kitchen.

  From the first moment he saw her walk through the door, he could tell she was different. Her long, shiny hair, like the wings of a raven, was delicately braided and adorned with ribbons, while her sky blue dress, with golden details, had nothing to do with the opaque uniforms of the maids, who, as soon as they saw her arrive, bowed and looked at each other nervously.

  From where he stood, he couldn't see her eyes. Perhaps they were like her father's, blue as the sea, but as a precaution he stayed away.

  She waved her hand, as if to reassure them, and sat down in front of one of the tables, which was soon emptied of all utensils and pots to make room for the lady. Seconds later, one of the maids served her a cup with a hot beverage, and the girl began to drink it, while she began to talk with them, as if she were just an acquaintance who had come to visit.

  In that busy room her figure was out of place, but she behaved naturally, as if everything belonged to her. To his displeasure, she did not seem to realize the discomfort that hung in the air, the delay she was causing in the usual rhythm of the kitchen, the predicament of the poor maids, who would have to strain their already exhausted bodies to prepare dinner in time.

  In any case, that matter was none of his business. He didn't understand why he was so upset...

  Suddenly, as he watched her from a corner, an idea crossed his mind.

  Maybe he couldn't take on a whole race by himself.... At that rate, it would take him years to achieve his revenge. But... if only he could become something bigger, with fangs and sharp claws, even if it was a monster without a concrete shape, one of those nights he could go to find the girl's room and kill her with a single swipe while she slept.

  That would be the perfect revenge against the royal family. He was even willing to risk being caught in the act by the wizards and die satisfied after having witnessed the surprise of those hateful people when they discovered who had been the perpetrator of that terrible tragedy.

  If only he could...

  “What a lovely cat!”

  As he was licking his lips at the thought of the blood pool at her bedside, the girl rushed over, grabbed him under his front paws, and then rocked him in her arms like a baby.

  “He's so soft!” she said as she dug her hands into his fluffy fur. “Does he have a name?”

  “Just cat, my lady,” answered one of the maids, lowering her eyes, although some of them could not hold back a smile. “But you can choose a name for it if you like...”

  Her blue eyes lit up like a clear sky morning.

  Beautiful... ?No, no! What was he thinking? She was the enemy!

  “Well, yes, of course! I've never had a cat.... I'll call him... I'll call him... Orangey!”

  He would have carried out his plan to kill her on the spot, just out of indignation, but he only deigned to grunt to make his displeasure clear.

  She just laughed.

  “He doesn't seem to like it... well.... Sunshine?”

  He continued to growl.

  “Fluffy?”

  The best thing to do was to ignore her. He made several attempts to get away, but she wouldn't let him. She pressed him even tighter against her warm chest.

  But why did that feel so comforting? He should have ran away inmediately.

  “I'll think of a better one... He's so cute... I wish I could take him with me...”

  He didn't let her finish. He dug his nails hard into her arm, until she screamed and forced her to let go. A small trickle of blood spurted from her skin, but he didn't have time to gloat because he had to escape before she thought of adopting him as a pet.

  However, one of the servants was not amused by the cat's reaction, so he started chasing the animal around the courtyard.

  That impulsive act meant the end of his stay in the castle, so he started looking for the exit to the outside, but was not fast enough to avoid another man who caught him by the tail.

  “Don't do anything to him! He's an innocent animal!” the girl shouted.

  If she only knew...

  “What's going on? Why are you yelling, my Lady?” suddenly shouted a man dressed in red.

  All servants stopped what they were doing, and bowed their heads.

  Panic-stricken, the chimera twitched, trying to scratch the man who had captured him.

  “Leander... it is nothing...” replied the Count's daughter.

  “My lady... You are bleeding!” exclaimed the concerned wizard. He was a skinny, pale man with a long face and shaved head.

  “An accident, nothing more... I was playing with the cat and...”

  “What cat?” the wizard turned his head, and met the eyes of the culprit, who could clearly see the man's pupils widen. “I thought... I sensed something strange around here.”

  The chimera should have stayed still as he was, kept pretending, made him hesitate, but, like so many other times he had felt fear in front of a predator, he lost control of his body, and returned to his mouse form in front of the astonished gaze of everyone present.

  In that tiny form he managed to free himself from the hands that held him, but the damage had already been done.

  With a simple movement of his hand, and an accurate aim, the wizard immobilized the creature, whose body froze as if he had been buried under a dense layer of snow.

  The last thing the chimera saw before he fell unconscious were the wizard's huge boots stopping in front of him.