I am born into a world much different than the happiness and sunshine of the house. I am told this when I am ten years old, paying more attention to the kids outside than my lesson. Rebecca is teaching me. Her ears point back, her annoyance clear as the frown on her face. She does not like teaching and I do not like learning. She is, however, the one who found me and we all learn our stories when we turn ten, for those who turn ten. Death is less frequent than it used to be, but it is not uncommon. It is accepted.
"I found you in the city where many humans live," Rebecca said, walking to the large map on the wall. She looks it over quickly to find the exact place. I am the only one she found that lived past the transformation. She is very protective of me. She is something like a mother and something like a sister. Maybe she is like an aunt? But in truth, she is too old to be any. She will be 47 soon. Master, also, is getting old, but he seems well enough. Rebecca regains my attention with the slap of a ruler on a table.
"You were the smallest baby I had seen," she says as if it is the second time, and follows it in a softer tone, "And maybe that is why you lived." She walks back to me, the only real sign of her age being her silver hair. She is still as lithe as the stories say. She sits on the table beside me. Our classroom is small, since I am her only student. There are two desks. I sit at one and she leans over to be closer to me.
"I found you wrapped in a towel, just a small, little thing. You were abandoned in a box. No home, no family…," she trails off and wraps me in a hug. "So we made you a part of our family." I giggle and hold her arms with my furred hands. My hair is red like poppy except for the white tips on my pointed ears. My face is sharp, but my tail is bushy. I don't mind my legs as much as Charlie does; they're curved with small paw feet. I think they're cute. Charlie's feet are hooved, though; perhaps that is the difference. Foxes are closer to humans that goats.
Rebecca kisses my head and I look outside. She knows my attention span won't last much longer. She sighs and walks over to her book. "Alright," she says with defeat, "Go outside. See Ilsy after nightfall. You've got a check-up." I nod enthusiastically and hug Rebecca. I run outside and join my brothers and sisters in play. There are 20 in my generation and there are 30 alive. We live in our house, blissfully ignorant that if anyone knew there was a houseful of chimeras was living in the country, we'd all join our brothers and sisters in their graves.