The Mountain's Silent Veil
High above the green valleys of northern Spain, the Picos de Europa pierce the sky. For centuries, these jagged peaks have been home to tough, weathered shepherds. They knew the mountains like their own hands.
They understood the winds, the sudden storms, and the deep, silent snows. But nothing was more disorienting than the mist.
When the clouds rolled in, they didn't just drift overhead. They settled. They became a thick, cotton-white wall that swallowed the world whole.
One moment, you could see the distant village, the winding path, the grazing sheep. The next, everything vanished. The ground disappeared. The horizon dissolved. It was like standing on the very edge of the world, suspended between nothingness.
A shepherd caught in this high-altitude fog was truly 'in the clouds.' He couldn't see his feet, let alone the path ahead. Every step was a guess. Every sound seemed muffled and far away. To be in that mist meant to be lost, isolated, completely cut off from reality.
It was a dangerous place to be, physically. But soon, the shepherds would find another kind of cloud-dwelling.
Mateo's Wandering Mind
Among the shepherds was a young apprentice named Mateo. He was a good lad, strong and willing, but his mind had a curious habit.
While the other shepherds watched the flock, their eyes scanning the slopes for any sign of trouble, Mateo often looked up.
He wasn't searching for bad weather. He was just… staring. His gaze would fix on a distant hawk, a fluffy cloud, or the endless blue expanse.
His thoughts drifted further than any eagle could fly. He imagined worlds beyond the peaks, stories woven into the sky. He was always somewhere else.
Because of this, Mateo often missed things. A lamb would stray. A sheep would wander too close to a rocky ledge. A sudden change in the wind would go unnoticed.
His old master, Pedro, a man with a face like carved rock and eyes that missed nothing, watched Mateo with a mixture of fondness and frustration.
“Mateo,” Pedro would sigh, snapping his fingers to get the boy’s attention. “Are you with us, or are you visiting the moon?”
The Lost Lamb and the Stern Warning
One morning, a thick, white mist rolled in unexpectedly. It hugged the mountain, blinding everything. The experienced shepherds quickly gathered their flock, moving them to a safer, lower pasture.
Mateo, however, was still dreaming. He was watching a patch of mist shift and swirl, imagining faces in its vaporous folds. His head was, quite literally, 'en las nubes' – in the clouds.