the witch doctor has never truly known the beauties of love.
he has lived his life void of its wonders, in ignorance of all of the wonders that it could add to the world. he didn't know what he was missing and yet, he knew that there was a part of his soul that lacked. a part of his heart ached for something he didn't know- for some form of affection that could turn his shaking frame warm and vibrant once more. he has known illness for all that he can remember- has known his death to be the only life that he has. it's a truly bleak reality and yet, he believes it to be the only fate for his broken, forsaken soul. he has been cursed to wander, a monstrosity upon tall legs and chilly breath. he doesn't need anybody... he can't admit that he does out of fear that the little bit of himself he has will disolve in his isolation.
and yet, the witch doctor does have a past.
it is on this day, on the day that they call valentines day, that the witch doctor is struck by a true feeling of loneliness, a pain in his chest that he didn't know he could feel. he doesn't know why the mortals celebrate such a lonely holiday- a holiday that forsakes beasts like himself. he feels lost, now more than ever, and as he stands in the pine forests his grand form trembles slightly. his mind begins to spin, and he can suddenly imagine another life- another existance in which he was something more- anything more- perhaps what nature had intended.
in his day dreams, the witch doctor sees a young deer, a mere fawn of speckled pelt and smiling eyes. he sees his mother and the green of the trees, feels the beating of the heart within his chest and he's suddenly lost in the odd feeling of remembrance. he feels himself prancing through the grass, racing through the trees and collapsing into a bed of flowers. every mountain he gazes upon upon brings a breath of wonder and as he snuggles into his mother, witch can almost still feel her warmth, the beauty of touch that he so badly desired. he's aging now, something that he realizes now he had feared and yet, would give anything to do in his current form so that he might eventually return to that green earth he had originally, before this life, been borne from.
the witch doctor can suddenly see himself as a young man, a stag of soft laughter and gentle smiles. more than anything, the witch doctor suddenly remembers the sweetest of memories and he stops, stumbling to his belly. he can feel his chest swell as he's swept into the memory, a soft voice gracing his ears as his rotting form fades away once more to show him the beautiful form he had once taken. beside him stands a doe, precious and beautiful and as sweet as the lilys he and his mother used to pick. suddenly, so suddenly, he's struck by a feeling of joy, a whispering that told him that he had a lifetime with her, an endless life to spend. he could imagine bearing children, the clatter of tiny hooves and he flinched as he could almost feel her soft nose nudging his own, sweet affection as she waddled past him with swollen belly. he gazed upon her with soft eyes, unable to tear his eyes from the doe in fear that she will disappear forever. in that moment, he can feel the way his chest squeezes and his face burns and he grasps onto it like, fearful that once everything faded, he'd lose that feeling again to.
and he does.
as quickly as he can imagine her she vanishes again, and the witch doctor is left alone once more, the dull ache of warmth shaking through his towering form. he feels as if the breath has been renched from him, his legs refusing to work beneath him. he wanted to sink into the earth, to disappear before his own mind is able to torture him any further. he doesn't dream- never- and yet he is pained when whatever controlled his memories finally decided to grace him with a small hint of a life before... this. he looks down at himself and he feels his chest heave, body shaking in soundless sobs for he is unable to cry. he can't remember her name, can no longer picture her face and it hurts him that he can't. he's only left with the feeling, a ghost, to remember her and he fears that if he moves too much, he might lose that once more and disappear into oblivion.
yet, he pulls himself to his feet, hooves shaking as he makes his way back to camp, choking back the sobs that threaten to heave at his chest. he feels cursed- feels that if his love was to see him now- see what he had become and learn what he did that she would no longer love him. he feared, all of a sudden, that perhaps he was to be forever alone and while there was still so much that baffles the witch doctor about emotion, he wishes suddenly that he knew even less, that the dream he had had hadn't reminded him of everything in love that he was missing.
he doesn't know what to do with himself and yet, there are times when the witch doctor just knows that something feels right. and so, he makes his way to the wishing tree, flowers clasped in sullen jaws. behind him, he leaves a trail of fire flies, the creature appearing from the tree tops to guide any other clanmates after him if they wished. he approaches the tree, chest heaving again as he gazed at the luminescent flowers, haunted, and he lays a bundle of flowers at the edge of the water, standing soundlessly at the surface.